


Misinformed

by momolady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Miscommunication, Modern Era, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:29:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 64,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6557356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momolady/pseuds/momolady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa is going to school to be a lawyer, has an amazing job at an amazing law firm. Now she has her own place to go along with it. Trouble is her downstairs neighbor who she is pretty sure does shady business for her even more dubious boss. </p><p>Sandor has lived alone and in peace for a long time. Able to escape his abusive past and heal he's found a place to call home. Now a young woman has moved in above him and brought along with her some troubles he's not sure he wants to be a part of. Including her boss who he believes is her lover.</p><p>The two of them have some misconceptions of one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Apartment

The apartment was small and dusty, her shoes left tracks as she walked across the floor and she could see where her dog, Lady, went from her paw prints left behind. One of the walls remained exposed, the framework and pipes and wires could be seen. Most of the windows were painted shut and it was like a game of chance discovering which ones opened and which ones didn’t. There was no central heating or air, and she had been warned the bathroom ceiling would leak.

And she loved it.

It was cute and offbeat, tucked away in a corner of the park, perfect for when she had to walk Lady. There were trees and flowers all around her, her front door covered in vines. She was within walking distance of work and from downtown. Best of all she was alone! Blissfully and utterly left to her own devices. No siblings to deal with. No parents. Everything was perfect. 

It had all come together flawlessly, this place was fated for her. She had been complaining to another assistant at her office about how cramped and loud her home was. How Arya left their shared bathroom a complete wreck and torn the new curtains she bought for it. How Rickon ate her favorite and brand new lipstick. How her father’s drinking friends always hollered and whooped from the den during games. Not to mention how her mother expected her to rise all above the cacophony and disorder because she was a ‘lady’.

“A lady doesn’t have to keep taking it,” Sansa huffed as she stacked papers. “That’s what I told her! And she looked at me like I had a snot hanging from my nose.”

Margarey laughed, “well what can you do? You have such a big family.”

Sansa scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’ve looked at places to rent. I can’t find anything I can afford right now. What with school I can’t go full time yet.”

Margarey shrugged, “I’d say you could move in with me and Loras but-” she trailed off,the corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

Sansa and she both started laughing.

“Ladies,” their boss said as he came out of his office.

“Oh! I’m sorry Mr. Lannister, were we too loud?” Sansa apologized, her face blooming red.

Tyrion Lannister was one of the partners at the law firm Sansa was working at. His family owned the firm for ages. Once his father died he took over and brought in new partners and expanded against his father’s, and sister’s wishes.

He motioned his coffee mug at her. “Ms. Stark, you said you’re looking for a place to rent?”

Sansa shifted a nervous glance to Margarey and back to Tyrion. “Y-yes sir.”

“You should talk to Littlefinger, he has several fixer-uppers he’s been slum lording.”

Littlefinger, a nickname of partner Petyr Baelish, was the reason Sansa even had this amazing opportunity of a job. He was a childhood friend of her mother and was still attached to her. If anyone could help Sansa it would be him.

After a quick conversation with him, they went to the small cottage after work. Sansa fell in love with it in an. He drew up a contract for her, and Sansa at first felt like she was taking advantage. He was giving her a too good to be true price. Her rent no more than what she spent on cosmetics each month. 

“It’s a work in progress. You’ll be a good test subject for the place.” Petyr said with a soft smirk.

Sansa fidgeted. “It still seems too good to be true,” she wondered if he wasn’t being kind to take pity on her and because of her mother. She didn’t want to be seen as a pitiful girl on her own for the first time.

“Well,” he sighed, looking over the contract as Sansa’s pen hovered over the page. “You’ll have a roommate of sorts.”

Sansa furrowed her brow. She wanted to have the apartment to herself! She thought she would be alone! “Roommate?” 

“He lives in the basement area,” Littlefinger replied. “It’s separate. The only thing you share is a set of stairs. I plan on putting a door that locks on each end of the stairwell. It won’t be for a while at the moment.”

“I’ll have to get a gate to make sure Lady doesn’t bother them,” Sansa was a bit relieved but she still felt apprehensive. “You said it was a guy?”

He nodded. “A bit of a recluse,” Petyr was looking down at the papers on his desk, shuffling them then locking them in a drawer. “I have no complaints about him. He’s worked for me before.”

Sansa heard many, many, many rumors about Littlefinger during her time in the office. How he used his innocent appearance to lure clients into shady deals and situations and how he used dubious methods to win in the court. 

“Well, as long as you get the doors and good locks.” Sansa signed the contract.

“Only the best for Ms. Stark.” He smirked.

She started her move not long after that. Within a week, she packed and she was now standing in the little dusty cottage. She walked about, following Lady’s paw prints to see where she wandered off too. They came to a stop at the infamous shared stairs. Her heart stopped and she looked down the darkening hall.

“Lady!” She whispered. She heard nothing. “Lady,” she hissed warningly.

She stepped down the first stair. “Lady!”

No sound or sign of the dog.

Sansa stepped down further, peering into the shadows and came to the bottom. She stood there, hands braced against the door frame and looking about in the dark apartment. It smelled like a man. Like a sock drawer and old deodorant. 

“Lady,” she whispered out.

She stepped into the apartment, biting her lip. “Lady! Here! Now!” She scolded, trying to sound in control despite how inside she felt like a vibrating ball. 

She bumped into a small table and gripped onto its edge. “I’m sorry!” She gasped then huffed as she caught what she did.

“Lady, here now!” She snapped, starting to get angry along with anxious. 

The cloudy light coming through the windows lit up the basement apartment a bit.All the walls were brick, and it was a much smaller space than upstairs. The entrance was also the kitchen, and where she stood it looked like a combination living room and dining room. The sofa looked bigger than the counter in the kitchen.

She heard the jingle of Lady’s collar and she sighed with relief, seeing Lady come out from a room beside the front door and sit there, looking up at the door as it opened.

Sansa froze, standing there trapped as her new neighbor came into his home greeted warmly by a dog he didn’t know.

“What the fuck?” He growled, his voice a deep rasp.

Lady leapt up, smiling and wagging her tail as she put her paws on his chest.

He was huge, Sansa noticed right away. His face shadowed as he came into the dark apartment from the bright outside. He had long dark hair. His arms as big as tree trunks. His hand that came down on Lady looked like they could rip tree trunks from the ground. 

More rumors of Littlefinger flooded her head. How they said he hired men to threaten people. How lawyers he was facing against coward or walked away when they learned he was to be their opponent. 

“Oh god, he’s hired muscle!” Sansa thought in her panicked state.

Lady lapped at his hand as he pets at her. He then glanced up, seeing Sansa standing there.

“I’m sorry!” Sansa blurted out.

Lady skipped over to Sansa like nothing was wrong then disappeared back upstairs. In her head Sansa was cursing her like a sailor.

“You must be the new tenant.” He growled, everything he said sounded vaguely threatening. 

“Yes,” Sansa attempted to unclench herself. “I’m sorry,” she repeated again. “I have a gate to put up, she won’t come down again.”

He tossed something on the kitchen counter top and turned on a coffee pot. The small red light glowing.

“Uhm…” Sansa wasn’t sure what to do. Should she introduce herself? Go away? He wasn’t saying anything.

“If you need anything just let me know,” the words slipped out of her mouth. “Since we’ll be neighbors.”

His back was to her as he opened the refrigerator. He wasn’t saying anything, which was unnerving enough for Sansa.

“Uhm...I know sometimes upstairs neighbors can be noisy. If there is anything we need to discuss, I don’t want to ruffle feathers.”

“No feathers to ruffle,” he snarled.\

Perhaps it was better he didn’t talk, Sansa thought. He already sounds annoyed with me.

She took a step backwards towards the stairs. “Once my things get here I’ll set up the gate to make sure Lady doesn’t bother you.”

He grunted towards her as the refrigerator closed. He reached for the coffee pot.

“I’ll leave you be then.” She turned and crashed into the table again, letting out a loud “oof!”  
As the corner plowed into her stomach. She felt his eyes on her, in the barely lit room, she couldn’t make out his face. Only the shape of his burly, lumberjack hitman body.

“Excuse me,” she rushed to make her escape, clambering upstairs where Lady was waiting for her at the top. Sansa scowled at her as she licked her face.

“All this is your fault,” she scolded, taking hold on Lady’s collar and shaking her.

 

She unpacked the few things she brought with her when her brother dropped her off. Her cosmetics and clothes, Lady’s things and food, and a box of cleaning supplies her mother sent.

She began cleaning up, sweeping and dusting and setting up space for Lady with her bed and toys as she waited for the moving van. Everything was tidy, but dust took over. She had to step outside to catch a fresh breath. She let Lady out and tied her to a post on the small porch.

She took in the cool, fresh air and sighed. She mopped up her face with the bottom of her shirt, exposing her back and stomach. As she turned she looked down, her porch looking over her neighbor’s front door and yard. Out front, there was a slick, black motorcycle that looked as babied as Lady was.

From the corner of her eye, she saw something move. His broad shoulders came out from under her porch and she saw him moving something. He was wearing dark grey sweats and matching hoodie. His pitch hair was lanky and messy. She felt her cheeks flush, did he see her when she pulled her shirt up. She wasn’t wearing much of a bra. 

Lady has already ruined my first impression, she thought, hearing his front door open and close.

A moment later the moving van pulled up and soon the place became filled with boxes and what little furniture she had. She watched as they brought things in and went to her bedroom, expecting to see her bed assembled and set up so she could take a nap. All she saw was just the pieces laying there next to the mattress which was laid against the wall.

“Are you going to set this up?” She asked the last mover as he wrote up the check.

“We’re just movers,” he handed her the slip. “We have other jobs today, young lady.”

Sansa stared in disbelief. “But...I can’t set that up by myself.”

“Pretty thing like you don’t have a boyfriend who can do it for her?” The mover asked before he headed out the door.

Sansa stared with her jaw slack and she dragged her hands down her face. She called her brothers, asking for help. Rob was busy, said he could help the next weekend. Jon said he was busy too and could come tomorrow during lunch.

“What am I supposed to do tonight?” Sansa bemoaned as she stood on the porch. She slumped on the steps, Lady laying down beside her. She heard a loud clunk and glancing down she saw her neighbor working on his pretty motorcycle.

She bit her lip. He looked handy, at least he knew what he was doing with his bike. Maybe he knew how to put together a bed. No doubt he was already annoyed enough with her. Her dog snuck into his house and caught her tiptoeing around herself.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she mumbled to herself and she stood up. She walked down the small path to his front yard and swallowed, Lady trotting over to him and laying down on the warm concrete before his door.

“Uhm-” Sansa started off, unsure what to follow up with.

He stood with his back to her. He was reaching through the front window next to the door, turning on the sink below it. He was wearing a shirt now which had the arms and sides ripped open. His back was muscular, his arms covered by thick, dark hair. 

He scoffed. “What is it, girl?”

“I…” she took a deep breath, feeling herself stare. “If I order food and feed you, will you help me put my bed together?” She clinched her fists.

He turned a little, his hair covering his face. The wide open sides of his shirt showing off his chest was also covered in a thick black pelt. His stomach rippling and hard. Sansa’s lips parted, she wasn’t even aware this attraction existed. 

“You don’t have a boyfriend who could-”

She was sick of it, and she wouldn’t have another second of it. “No!” She snapped. “And I called my brothers too! No one can help me today! And the movers were assholes who laughed at me! I’m moving out on my first time! If all you’re gonna do is smart off to me then I’ll sleep on the floor!” She stomped her foot hard.

He laughed, dark and raspy. The sound like the comforting sound of crunching on fresh gravel. She flinched, stepping backwards. She didn’t expect laughter.

He turned around and Sansa’s breath stuck in her throat. Her voice choking off.

“For food, why not?” He wiped his brow. His grey eyes studying her, waiting for the reaction he knew was coming. “Don’t go plowing your leg into the ground on my account.”

Sansa studied his face, his features sharp and dark. His eyes deep grey, well, the right one was. The left was milky, filmed over. The left side of his face scarred and burnt. The skin pocked and melted, dark red. Then she relaxed and chided herself. She was being rude. A lady wouldn’t stare, a lady wouldn’t make someone feel uncomfortable. 

“Pizza or Chinese?” She bit out, keeping her irritated tone from before.

He smirked, “you pick.” He growled. “I’ll finish this and I’ll be up.”

Sansa felt a slight surge of relief. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m uhm...my name is Sansa, by the way.” She said, stealing one last look at this man. A veritable beast yet his laugh was comforting.

“Sandor,” he growled after her.

“Sandor,” she repeated to herself, easy enough to not forget. She then knelt and whistled to Lady who rolled onto her back and let her tongue flop out.

“Lady, here,” Sansa was getting the idea Lady wanted to cause trouble with the new neighbor.

“I’ll bring her up,” Sandor reached down and rubbed Lady’s belly. “You can leave her with me.”

“You sure?” Sansa asked.

He nodded, returning to something on his motorcycle.

She sighed then looked to Lady. “You behave, alright? You’ve already embarrassed me enough for today!”

Lady snorted.

She frowned down at her dog, telling her with her eyes to stop schmoozing up to the neighbor just because he had big warm hands. Well, she assumed they were warm. She turned and went back up the hill to her apartment. 

Her mind wandered back to Sandor. His face startled her, frightened her even. She felt guilty that it shocked her so, he couldn’t help it. He must have been in pain for a long time. She touched the side of her face, her skin soft and smooth. She wondered if he could feel anything on that side. Did it still hurt? She was curious about him, but she felt as if she would be weird or rude to ask anything too personal right off the bat. Since he was helping her it would be twice as rude.

She unpacked her candles and lit a few. She then began hanging her clothes in the closet and setting up the bathroom which she was sure was going to be her favorite room. It was a little cramped and the countertop needed replacing, however, there was a huge old-fashioned bathtub. High walls, claw feet, beautiful gold spigots, everything she ever wanted.

As she was hanging the shower curtain Lady came rushing in and jumped into the tub.

“Sandor?” She called out, peeking her head out the bathroom door. She saw him in the kitchen, setting down a six pack of beer in the fridge.

She walked out, “I’ll order the food now I guess.” She said, pulling out her phone.

Sandor cracked open a beer and held it out to her.

“For me?” She took it, her fingers touching his.

Oh, his hands are warm, she thought as she grasped the neck of the beer. She took a sip as she made an order on her phone through an app then set it away again.

“The bed is back through here,” she pointed but Sandor was already on his way there, a toolbox in his hand.

In what would become together her bedroom, the pieces of the frame laid about. The mattress lay in the corner with boxes and now Lady on top of it. Sandor looked around, seeing the dresser sat against the wall already covered in cosmetics and perfumes and creams. Her closet was already overstuffed with clothes. 

The candle there was going made the room smell like lemons and sugar. He blew it out.

“You can go about your business,” he said as Sansa came in behind him. “Tell me where you want it and I’ll get it set up for you.”

“Oh,” she hesitated for a moment. “I was hoping to watch, or even help.” She replied, placing the lip of the cold beer against her lip. Sandor stooped down and began unbundling the metal frame. Her eyes trailing down the muscles that his shirt opened to along the sides.

“I want to become, I dunno, less helpless.” She attempted to seem less nervous. “Like uhm...just in case I’m single forever.”

Sandor huffed, grumbling something Sana couldn’t make out under his breath. He set his toolbox down. “Where are the feet and screws?”

Sansa took a bag off the door and handed it to him. Inside all the tiny small parts.

“That's one step above most first-timers,” he said. “Ok now, just...stand somewhere out of the way.” He waved his hand.

Sansa frowned at his back yet did as he bade, stepping around and going to sit with Lady. She watched as Sandor laid out the screws and placing the feet back onto the frame.

As he began placing screws Sansa stood up and watched over him, curious.

“Do you have to stand there?” He growled.

Sansa glanced down, seeing him watch her over his shoulder. “I told you I wanted to know what to do.”

“You can find instructions to do this on youtube. Watch it there.”

Sansa walked around him. “Isn’t it hard to set up alone though?”

“If I need your help I’ll tell you what to do. For now, watch from a distance.”

She scowled down at the brute and stepped aside, following his orders, not happy about it. She sat back down with Lady and took the beer to her lips and watched. She wondered again how he came to be acquainted with Littlefinger. Hired muscle? Someone big and frightening to scare the opponent into being submissive. He looked the part. His large body, big hairy knuckles, and his face. Like he was a half finished wax statue. Like Icarus’s wings.

He waves her over. “Ok, come hold this up.”

She makes her way towards him and does as he commanded, holding up one metal beam as he fixed it to another. 

He has her move around and they do it to the other side. Soon the frame was together and they set up the headboard and baseboard. He complained about why she needed something heavy and gaudy. Then once the mattress was on there was a knock on the door.

“Must be dinner,” Sansa beamed at the bed, feeling somewhat accomplished she helped as much as she did. She left and answered the door, taking the two big boxes of pizza.

“That place is terrible,” Sandor grumbled as he came and stood by the counter.

Sansa frowned at him. “Too bad, I already got the work out of you.” She opened one of the boxes.

He was in the fridge, taking out two more bottles of beer. “Oughta go in there and dismantle it all.” He opened them, setting one before Sansa.

Sansa snorted, taking a slice and a great big bite. She sighed, looking around. “Sorry, the only seat I have right now are blankets.”

“You got the bed.” Sandor quipped as he took a slice. 

Sansa blushed, covering her conflicted feelings by frowning at him. “Awful forward, sir.”

“No sir here.” He looked around her place. “Why no furniture?”

Sansa huffed. “It’s all still in storage. Mom has to go through it to pick out things for me.” She rolled her eyes at this. “Only need a sofa and a table set, yet she acts like I’ll be hosting queens or something.” She looked at the label on the beer. “Mr. Baelish said he would put doors up on the stairs soon. You won’t have to worry about Lady breaking in.”

“Not her I was worried about.”

Sansa scoffed. “Well excuse me.” She stole glances at his face, his burns. She didn’t want to stare, yet she couldn’t help it. Her mind was full of questions she wanted to ask.

Sandor finished off his beer and the first pizza. “You should blow out those candles.” He growled as he took his beer from the fridge. “Good night.”

His abruptness surprised Sansa and she couldn’t respond by the time he went down the stairs. She huffed, balancing her chin in her palm. “Good night,” she grumbled as she stood in the kitchen alone.


	2. The Downstairs Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor has lived alone in the cottage for a long time. Now a roommate is moving in upstairs. He has his ideas about her, based on the landlord's history and his experience with the man. He's unsure who this girl is, but he likes her dog.

The sun was slow to rise when he got home. He opened his closet and unlocked the safe inside, his canvas bag going on the top shelf, the leather holster the second shelf, the spare set of keys in the extra drawer. He locked it back and returned to his kitchen where he prepared his coffee. Dumping grounds and water inside and plugging it in for his return. All he had to do was switch it on.

He changed, stripping down and pulling on the shabby gray sweats he wore whenever he wasn’t working. Long nights like this always set him on edge. Even if he was approaching the twenty-four-hour mark he couldn’t sleep. He knew he couldn’t do anything at all except wear himself out. Run to the gym, work out, run back from the gym and hope to the gods he would be able to find rest afterward.

He stepped out his door and saw a car pull up. He knew someone was moving in. Baelish told him a girl he was close with would be renting out the upstairs. The last time someone rented the above apartment they turned out to be a prostitute who hired Baelish to protect them.

How much did this girl pay Baelish? He thought, now hearing voices from above. A woman and a man arguing it sounded like.

Was Baelish sleeping with this one? The car looked nice, well taken care of, expensive. He pulled his hood over his face and waited to hear them go inside before he ran up the hill and away.

Baelish wasn’t the sort of man he would want to associate with, yet when he was at his lowest it was Baelish who was the only one who saw the potential in him. He didn’t want to say he owed Baelish anything because he didn’t. What Baelish offered was never free, there was always a catch to assure the bastard came out on top of the heap.

He wondered about the girl and what Baelish did to put himself above her.

She already had a guy with her, moving her in at the ass crack of dawn. No one was ever eager to move somewhere, let alone early enough the rooster hadn't crowed.

The gym was quiet, save for the regulars like him who had nothing better to do with their mornings than work on their bodies and trade secrets about the latest protein powders. It was a crowd he'd grown used to and better yet a crowd used to him. He didn’t worry too much about tying his hair back and letting the scars show. No one there stared much anymore.

He became a regular fixture of the early mornings since he moved to Winter Falls. Regulars in the gym stopped to say hello every now and again. It never happened to him back home, no one stopped to say hello to a Clegane.

Walking out of the gym the sun rose and the mist on the ground had a rosy haze to it. The clouds behind him were pink next to the orange of the sun. It made him think of something he once heard one of the old nurses say back home.

“Pink at morn, sailors be warned.”

“If I was a sailor I’d heed you,” he growled, snapping his hood up around his head and jogging back towards home.

There wasn't a car in the driveway anymore, and the lights were in upstairs. Perhaps he missed the show, which he was thankful for. He unlocked the door, stepping inside. He smelled something unfamiliar as the door opened wafting air into his face. It smelled sweet and soft, warming something cold inside him.

A warm wet tongue was at his cheek along with thick, heavy paws at his chest.

“What the fuck?” He gasped as the dog schmoozed to him. He pets the thing regardless, he had always been fond of dogs. This one was as lovely as they came.

“I’m sorry!”

He glanced up, seeing her. The new neighbor.

She was tall, long legged. Pretty enough in shape alone, her long legs shapely and pale. Her long auburn hair catching the sunlight and glowing brightly like an ember. No wonder Baelish liked her. One sad glance of her big blue eyes and any man would be turned into putty.

She doesn’t look like the last girl. Maybe she’s Baelish’s girl, he thought as he eased the dog back to all fours. He rubbed her ears and scratched under her chin. She was well taken care of, bathed and manicured and decorated with a sparkling collar.

After enough loving, the dog trotted to her master then scampered back up the stairs. The look on the girl’s face told him the whole story. Dog snuck down, and she came after it to keep it from running where it wasn’t wanted.

“You must be the new tenant,” he growled as he went into the kitchen.

“Yes,” she sounded like a vein was about to pop. “I’m sorry,” she swallowed, becoming breathless. “I have a gate to put up, so she won’t come down again.”

He didn’t mind the damn animal. He didn’t have anything a dog biting or pissing on would ruin any further. He turned on his coffee pot, the only thing he cared about at the moment.

“Uhm,” she was starting to sound less like a terrified goat.

Sandor glanced over his shoulder at her. Stealing another selfish glance at her legs. She was wearing those tiny shorts which were popular. On her, he could see the appeal.

“If you ever need anything just let me know.” Was she still talking? “Since we’ll be neighbors.”

He went to the fridge, hoping if he didn’t respond to her maybe she would leave. She didn’t need to make friends to be his neighbor.

“Uhm, I know sometimes upstairs neighbors can be noisy. If there is anything to discuss, I don’t want to ruffle any feathers.”

He rolled his eyes, shutting the refrigerator. “No feathers to ruffle.” I didn’t think they would ever be in the cottage at the same time anyways. The way his hours worked out lately, if she was out during the day he would be left in peace.

“Once my things get here I’ll set up the gate to make sure Lady doesn’t bother you.”

He chuckled, more of a grunt than a laugh. Lady! What a silly name for a dog so big. He grabbed the coffee pot and poured into his mug.

“I’ll leave you be then,” he looked up, seeing her trajectory was leading her for a crash course with his table’s corner.

He stomach plowed right into it and she huffed. Grabbing herself around the stomach she tried to regain herself. “Excuse me!” She made a mad dash for the stairs, tripping up as she did.

He smirked, taking his first sip of coffee. Well, she wasn’t the kind of girl he expected he thought, laying himself out on the old sofa. His steaming cup of coffee sitting on the corner. He could drink a whole pot and fall asleep with no fight. He felt exhausted, yet his body wouldn’t allow him to sleep. Resting on the sofa felt like a death sentence rather than a reprieve.

He heard her moving about upstairs. Her footsteps thud, thud, thudding back and forth. The soft swish of a broom. He listened, imagining her darting back and forth with Lady following her every move. He felt himself sinking into the sofa then, his eyes shutting as the sensation of rest came to him.

As he felt himself slip away he felt a familiar pain again. Heat and sting.

He sat up throwing his coffee mug down. Seering hot coffee spilled down his chest. He cursed and stormed away from the sofa. He stomped outside to the shed where his washing machine and dryer were. He tossed the soaking hoodie inside, replacing it with a fresh one left in the dryer. He huffed. His chest scalded a bit, it was nothing compared to what he'd grown used to.

He picked up his toolbox on the shelf as well as oil and chrome polish. He wasn’t sleeping anymore. He gave up on the whole thing. He’d put his head into working on the one little extravagance in his life. His motorcycle, Stranger.

He sat down beside it, rubbing in the polish and making the pipes and spokes shine. It was a ritual for him. Something he started doing by the suggestion of his therapist. “It’ll be like your zen garden. You hate those, maybe you’ll enjoy this more,” she said.

Above him, the front door opened and the girl came out. She was sneezing her head off and complaining to the dog. Looking up, he could see her, the dog. He couldn’t see the master.

He finished up polishing and stood up a big moving van came pulling up and he watched as the master walked out and greeted them, pointing them where to go and where to set things. She had a rather formal way of speaking. Her voice sounded trained like she'd been schooled how to sound from birth. When she stood in his home, even while nervous, she sounded like she was a hostess at a fancy restaurant.

She would call me sir, he thought.

The sun was getting high, and he was beginning to sweat under his hoodie. He stripped it off, tossing it through the open kitchen window. He huffed, fanning his shirt open and closed to create a breeze. Dry up the sweat.

He continued working on Stranger. Removing the rims to get in at the dirt and grime which built up. He needed to test the tires, they needed air. He got lost in his work again.

A dog was by his side, settling down on the sun-baked concrete. She sighed tranquility and wagged her tail, dusting the ground. He scoffed, standing up to rinse off his wrench in the sink under the open window.

“Uhm-” the master coughed out, appearing before him as well. She then went silent, even after her abrupt appearance.

“What is it, girl?”

“I…” for a moment, he thought she was going to start crying. “If I order food and feed you, will you help me put my bed together?”

That was a surprise. She had more guts than he gave her credit for. Even after embarrassing herself earlier, she came down to offer food in exchange for his services. He smirked, clearing it from his face as he turned around to look at her from the corner of his eye.

He waved his wrench at her. “You don’t have a boyfriend who could-”

“No!” She blurted out angrily.

The look on her face made him realize he said the wrong thing. Her cheeks flushed red, eyes sparkling with frustrated tears and burning holes into his skin.

The master is showing her fangs.

“And I called my brothers too!”

A girl who stood in shadows.

“No one can help me today! And the movers were assholes who laughed at me!” She clenched and unclenched her pretty little hands.“I’m moving out on my first time! If all you’re gonna do is smart off to me then I’ll sleep on the floor!” She stomped her foot down, making him think she was trying to kick up dirt.

He couldn’t stop the laugh building up. It was as surprising to him as it seemed it was to her. He wiped the sweat from his face and turned to her, facing her.

Her lip trembled, throat shuddered and the red drained from her face leaving only snow. He met her blue eyes, yet she didn’t meet his back. She became trapped in the moment. He knew what was coming. This always happened when he met people. They would stare, eyes lingering on the scars, his useless eye. Pity would come because of guilt.

“For food, why not?”He pulled his shirt up and mopped the sweat from his brow. “Don’t go plowing your leg into the ground on my account.”

She looked at him,meeting his eyes for a moment. “Pizza or Chinese?” Her hand rested on her hip, to keep from shaking.

“You pick,” he sat back down behind Stranger. “I’ll finish this and I’ll be up.” He wiped his hands on his pants and slid the rim back into place.

“Thank you,” she sighed, her shoulders lifting. “I’m uhm...my name is Sansa, by the way.”

The master has a name, he thought. She was human and real after all. 

“Sandor,” he threw back.

“Sandor,” his name left her lips and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and pull.

She then knelt and whistled to the dog who ignored her. “Lady, here,” she snapped her fingers.

“I’ll bring her up,” he rubbed the warm soft belly exposed before him. “You can leave her with me.”

The master stood. “You sure?”

He nodded, returning to something on his motorcycle.

She screwed her mouth up, she sighed and pointed at Lady, a threat perhaps. “You behave, alright? You’ve already embarrassed me enough for today!” She turned away, once he was sure she wasn’t looking he knelt down, rubbing Lady’s belly more and letting her jump on him.

“Do you keep master on her toes?” He murmured to her. “Feel free to bother me as much as you like.” He went inside, Lady following after him. He took cold cuts and cheese from his fridge and gave them to her as she pranced and twirled around his small kitchen.

A long time ago he used to keep his company full of dogs. A job he had enjoyed and had healed him greatly. He missed those days, walking into the lot to be greeted by souls that wanted to see him more than any steak in the world. Creatures wounded like him and begging for a place to exist with love.

If master turned out to be a horrible upstairs neighbor, he could at least forgive her for being a good dog owner. 

He went back out as Lady left his side when she ate all the treats. He fetched the toolbox then hesitated at the kitchen. He pulled out a six pack. The master looked like she needed something to drink.

She moved away, on her own, for the first time. Renting from Peyter Baelish. She mentioned brothers, perhaps she was escaping something as well. He ran from a brother, from a family he wanted to forget as hard as he tried. There were memories that wouldn’t die. Memories which wouldn’t go up in flames like everything else.

He trudged up the stairs, hesitating at the top, hearing the master murmur and coo to Lady. Singing when she thought there was no one else to hear. Her voice was soft and clear. He felt the sinking sensation again. His body relaxing and giving way like before he found sleep.

“Sandor?” The hair ont he back of his neck stood again. Prickling and tickling at the sound of his name escaping her lips.

He made a beeline for the kitchen, setting down the tools and placing the beers in the fridge. He took out two, one for each. She came up beside him as he popped the top on one for her. She was holding her phone, tapping away at it.

“I’ll order food now I guess,” she looked up at him, surprised by the offering. “For me?” Her fingers touched his, her skin cool and smooth like a silk glove. Her lips wrapped around the lip, soft and red.

He took the toolbox, turning away from her and heading for the back room.

“The bed is back through her,” she chased after him, keeping close.

The room was already jam packed. There was a dresser littered with lipsticks and bottles and brushes. The closet lousy clothes and boxes labeled things like shoes and handbags and scarves, all stuffed to burst. Sandor didn’t see the sense in all the clutter and crap. Why did a pretty girl like her need so much makeup? Why did she needed three dresses in the same color? Why more than one purse?

On the dresser was a candle, lemon scented. He blew it out as soon as he saw it flicker. There were others around the house burning still. 

She had better blow those out too, he thought.

“You can go about your business.” He grunted as he set his toolbox aside. “Tell me where you want it and I’ll get it set up for you.”

“Oh,” she moved around him, close enough he felt her swipe his arm. “I was hoping to watch, or even help.”

He stepped away and began unbundling the frame. Laying out the pieces along the floor as she talked. He could do this on his own, it was easy. Trying to teach her along the way was another step he didn’t want to take.

She stopped and he stood up, “need you like I need a headache,” he whispered under his breath. He stood back up and looked down at her. “Where are the feet and screws?”

She leaped into action, grabbing up a shopping bag with all the parts inside. All separated into little sandwich bags.

“That's one step above most first-timers,” he grumbled, feeling like she deserved a bone. “Ok now, just...stand somewhere out of the way.”

He began working, screwing on the feet and assigning the screws, setting them into place and aligning slots. It was an old frame, and heavier than he planned. It was beginning to hurt his hands holding the edges.

A shadow hovered over him.

He couldn’t stand her hovering. He gave her small orders as she insisted on helping out. Something or another about wanting to be less helpless. Chirp, chirp, chirping away trying to get her point across. She seemed proud at least to see the whole thing put together. An annoyed look crossing her face when someone came and knocked at the door. The food there at last.

“Took i fucking long enough,” he grumbled under his breath as she raced away to the door.

The master ordered pizza, and from a place, he didn’t care for. They always served the food way too hot.

“That place is terrible,” he groused despite taking a slice.

Her plump bottom lip jutted out as he walked by her. “Too bad, I already got the work out of you.”

“Oughta go in there and dismantle it all.” He fetched more beer, serving her one.

She thanked him with her eyes, soft blue things they were. For more than just the beer he handed her. Her eyes told him more than she ever would with her chirping. “Sorry, the only seat I have right now are blankets.”

He nodded back towards the bedroom. “You got the bed.”

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes avoided him. He always seemed to be catching her half staring. He didn’t feel her stares like he did others. They weren’t ones of morbid curiosity that stung him like mad wasps. It was a different sensation that he gaze caused. He wasn’t sure what it was, and he wasn’t too sure how he felt about it.

“Awful forward, sir.” She was breathless, replacing words with beer and cheese in her mouth.

“No sir here.” He growled, smirking to himself. He leaned against the counter, looking at her for a moment as her eyes darted around the place.

Supple, pale skin, well taken care of. Her neck was swanlike and rippled as she swallowed. She shuddered, and he could see the faint outline of her nipples through her shirt.

He cleared his throat, returning to the food and beer. “Why no furniture?”

She made an irritating little prissy sound of disgust. “It’s all still in storage. Mom has to go through it to pick out things for me.”

Little baby rich girl? He wondered.

“Only need a sofa and a table set, yet she acts like I’ll be hosting queens or something. Mr. Baelish said he would put doors up on the stairs soon. You won’t have to worry about Lady breaking in.”

Mr. Baelish, is what she calls him. Could mean anything. His initial impression of her would be hard to shake. That was just the kind of way Baelish had.

“Not her I was worried about.” He replied after a long gulp of his beer.

He could feel her eyes on him then. Looking at his face, at the ugly mask it melted into. He frowned, grabbing up his tools. He took the beer from the fridge. Taking one for himself, leaving the last for her in the empty fridge.

“You should blow out those candles.” He escaped her gaze. “Good night.”

He felt relieved as he escaped those blue eyes. It didn’t bother him much when people stared. He'd grown a thick skin about it. Yet, her eyes pierced through it all. She was a girl. A girl who owned a dog.

He fell into bed, clutching his pillow and taking a deep, steadying breath.

Forty-eight hours. It wasn’t a record or anything it was something he would try to avoid on a normal basis. He nuzzled into his pillow, hearing her shuffle around upstairs for a moment. He then heard the pipes in the walls shudder and groan. The sloshing, whirring sound of water gushing through the pipes and upstairs.

That damn tub, he thought to himself. It was the main reason he didn’t take up the stairs apartment. His own had a simple shower stall and it was all her needed. Perhaps the master wanted something a little more romantic.

Candles and claw-foot bathtubs. She seemed like the kind of girl who read copious amounts of romance novels. If she was that type of girl, perhaps it was why she got in with Baelish. Dashing older man, kind of attractive, rich, charming. He was the kind of man to use people for his own gain,women of all ages included. Sandor scoffed at the thought.

He forgot to tell her about the washing machine and dryer, he’d have to make a note to pass on the information in case Baelish hadn’t. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes grew heavy, his body sinking. The bed becoming quicksand. He sunk deeper, his body becoming numb. His eyes shut, mouth parted. A snore cracking through the silence like thunder.


	3. Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Sandor slowly begin to become part of one another's routine.

“Good morning,” her voice broke the silence of the rather cold morning like a crack of thunder. He glanced up, seeing her standing before her door, Lady beside her on a leash. 

“Mnh,” he grumbled, pulling his hood up.

Sansa pressed her lips together in a firm line. “Maybe he’s still upset,” she thought to herself.

Lady yanked and pulled on the leash, trying to get closer to Sandor as he came up the hill to the sidewalk.

“Morning run?” Sansa tried again, trying to sound chipper despite the horrible night of sleep she got. She wasn’t used to sleeping alone, wasn’t used to a house so quiet she could hear every creak and groan of the house.

“Yes,” Sandor knelt and greeted Lady.

“So were we,” Sansa replied. “I like to take Lady for a run in the morning. I don’t have much time to do elsewhere in the day. I also need a few groceries.”

Sandor nodded, letting Lady lick him one last time before he stood up.

“You’re probably heading to the gym,” Sansa tugged on Lady’s leash as she tried to follow after him.   
“I’ll let you be now.” She turned to walk in the opposite direction, except Lady whined.

“If you’re hungry when you get back, I’ll be making breakfast.” Sansa felt Lady slack on the leash after she said it. 

Sandor looked back over his shoulder at her. “You don’t need to keep trying to be nice, girl. We’re just neighbors, and you don’t know me from Adam.”

“I’m not-” Sansa frowned. “It was an invitation!” She snapped back, keeping her resolve steel tough. “You don’t need to add your cranky two cents to it.” She tugged on Lady’s leash. “Let’s go now.”

Sandor saw the small can clutched hard in her fist as she and Lady walked away. He had seen such a thing many times. Seen many women clutch it close when men like him walked by. He scoffed and turned away, heading towards his usual morning routine.

Sansa went along the trail in the park, knowing it led out to the market downtown. It was a new morning routine for her and Lady. Their usual route took them from her family home and down along the riverwalk. Sansa couldn't wait for the change of scenery, the riverwalk was often stark and bleak, never changing. The park though was a welcome exchange.

She used to taking Lady on walks whenever the atmosphere in her home became too much and she needed an excuse to get out. Mornings became a constant because she learned she missed the rush hour and she could find peace in getting ready. There may not have been any hot water left, at least she was left unbothered. 

Arriving back at the cottage, the quiet greeted her. The place still and untouched since she left. It was strange, considering the chaos always going on at home. Her mother shouting over the phone to her partners. Her father having guests over and trying to negotiate deals. Her brothers arguing or playing. Her sister banging away on drums or practicing one of her damned sports in the house.

Sansa laid down the groceries she bought and sighed. She would make herself breakfast and along the way try to scramble something together for lunch. She had classes first thing, then once they were over with she had to rush back to work. Afterward, she could walk home.

“I’ll see if I can borrow a sound machine from Margarey,” she muttered as she placed food into the fridge, leaving out what she needed for cooking.

Sandor tried to linger at the gym for as long as he could. It became too crowded for his taste and he left. He didn’t want to run into the master again, even though he got the feeling it would be a regular thing in the mornings now.

Maybe I could get up earlier, he thought. Or at least wait until she’s out of sight. Then again, why does it fucking matter?

He came jogging up the path, seeing her fumbling at the door. She dressed to the hilt, makeup and hair all done, her clothes all seemed to be made for her, her shoes matching even the backpack she wore. She hiked a backpack over her shoulder and huffed, turning away from the door and glancing at her phone as she stepped out towards the curb. She glanced up, seeing him coming up. She smiled awkwardly, waved, and her eyes returned to her phone.

“I thought you were making me breakfast,” he retorted as he walked down the hill.

“Lady ate it, I didn’t think you’d care.” She huffed, placing the phone to her ear. “You told me I shouldn’t be nice.”

He smirked, wiping his face with the hem of his hoodie. “Don’t start then.” He turned then stopped and looked back to her. “Ay, girl.”

She held up a sharp finger at him, listening to her phone.

He frowned. It was those sorts of things that ticked him off.

“I’m ready yeah...well hurry! You’re going to make me late!” She snapped into the phone then spun around to look at him. Her hair whipping about like a ginger cyclone. “What?”

He scoffed. “Really taking that advice to heart,” he pointed to the shed. “That over there is the washer and dryer. Gotta share so I don’t want to hear you complain about it.”

He eyes widened and cheeks flushed. “Oh...oh yeah. Thank you.” She fumbled with her phone in her hands. “I was wondering about that.”

“Save you precious mental capacity then,” Sandor smirked as he walked away.

Sansa shook her head after him, frowning as she looked back to her phone screen.

Mornings like this came to pass. Became a part of both their routines. They’d see each other, sometimes she would speak, sometimes they would go along their separate ways. He always saw her when she was leaving. Either waiting on the curb or hopping into a car. Sandor had no idea where she went or what she did. She often came back late, so Sandor took to stealing Lady while she was away and returning her before the master got home.

It wasn’t right to keep a dog like her cooped up all day, only to go out in the morning. It didn’t settle right. The master could spoil the dog all she wanted, didn’t mean the creature was getting what it needed.

During the days he couldn’t sleep she was a blessing. She was something he could spend the day with, keep himself entertained. He started keeping treats around, buying them at the store on the way home from the gym. Once she came down the stairs, he would toss her a treat and when he set her back in the master’s apartment he would give her another.

One morning as he was pulling up his hoodie, getting ready for his run to the gym he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around her stared down at the master. She looked as if someone told her a rather distasteful joke which was also not the least bit funny. Her brow pinch, lip a little pursed, nostrils flared.

“What?” He rasped at her.

“Have you been giving Lady dog treats?”

He felt strange, like a little boy caught smoking a cigarette. What a strange way to feel, even with her. “Why?” He huffed out.

“I found her stash,” Sansa replied, trying to suppress the smile which was fit to bust. “She’s got at least ten treats hidden under her bed.”

“Oh-” Sandor hesitated, unsure still what she was getting at.

“Listen,” Sansa tucked her hair behind her hair. “If you like her so much, I’ll take the gate down.” She said. “But-”

Oh fuck,a but, he thought to himself, rolling his eyes. 

“You need to say you like her.”

He furrowed his brow at her, scowling down his nose at her.

Sansa inched a little closer, she knew men like Sandor. She knew how they hated admitting how much they loved something.

“I don’t have to say-” Lady nudged at his leg, pawing at his stomach. Sandor scoffed and reached down, petting her. “She’s an...all right of a dog.”

Sansa sighed. “I’ve had an inkling of an idea,” she started. “That you were playing with her when I wasn’t around.” Her smile was small and gentle. “She’s been a lot less fidgety.”

“You keep her cooped up all day.”

“I know,” Sansa huffed. “I have school and work,” she replied. “Back home there was a lot for her to play in all day. I wouldn’t even know how to set that up here.” She looked up at Sandor. “So thanks,” she replied. “For playing with her.”

His lip curled and he turned his head away.

“I’ll take the gate down later,” Sansa pulled Lady along with her. “I’m sure she knows her way around after that.” She waved, taking Lady along their regular path through the park.

Sandor huffed, feeling aggravated and embarrassed. He felt overheated and uncomfortable, not sure how to handle this all. He was like the kid with his hand in the cookie jar and also his pants were down.

He ran, trying to push the whole scene from his mind.

 

Sansa went along her normal route,like always. Today she lingered, taking her time and letting Lady lead her down new paths. Sunday the only day which allowed Sansa to relax and enjoy her time. The market had more to it today as well, and she was able to pick up things she was craving all week. Peppers, fresh lemons, a homemade specialty coffee she knew she was paying too much for. She finished her trip by buying eggs and was adjusting the strap on her bag when she glanced up and her insides went cold.

There was a car parked at the edge of the market, blood red, the windows blacked out. The golden stag hood ornament glimmering on the hood. She gripped hard on Lady’s collar and the canister she attached to it. “Let’s go home, girl.” She walked down the crowded street rather than her usual path home through the park.

She stayed close to the buildings, ready to push herself inside a door if need be. Her heart hammered in her throat, her palms cold and damp. She wanted to get home, she wanted to believe what she saw was a coincidence.

“It’s not possible,” she whispered to herself. “He knows the rules. He knows.”

He’s arrogant and selfish and it makes him cocky, a dark thought crept up. Even if he doesn’t have his daddy or grandfather to protect his ass anymore.

Sansa felt like crying as she hustled along the main street. She found herself standing in front of her work, and with a shaky hand she was able to unlock the door and walk inside. She set her things down and sat at her desk, taking several deep breaths. She wiped her cheeks and pulled Lady in close, hugging her tight.

“Ms. Stark?”

Sansa about jumped out of her seat, squeezing hard on the pepper spray canister in her hand. She looked up, seeing her boss standing in the doorway of his office. 

She sniffled and wiped her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Baelish,” she stood up, clutching Lady’s leash still.   
Baelish stepped out of his office, his attire was casual. A shirt and jeans,which Sansa had never seen him wear in her entire life. He was always dressed perfect and polished. She fidgeted, expecting to get reprimanded for coming in her off hours with a dog and a load of groceries. She was sure she looked insane.

“What’s the matter?” Baelish asked.

Sansa took a shuddering breath. “OH well,” she tried to laugh it off. “I’m afraid I’m just being horribly, stupidly silly-” she choked off and she looked away as she felt burning tears rise to her eyes.

Baelish rushed towards her,putting a hand to her back. “Sansa,” he coaxed.

“I saw HIS car,” she muttered. She took a tissue from her desk and wiped her face. “Or at least I think I saw it,” she sniffled and blew her nose.

Baelish pulled her chair out and she took the seat.

“Tell me,” Baelish insisted, his voice calm and gentle.

Sansa’s shoulders shuddered. “I was certain I saw the stag hood ornament,” she spoke with her voice low, as if someone was listening to them. “That big...ostentatious car…” she spit. 

Baelish pet her hand. “Now, now, I made sure you’d stay safe.”

“WEll he seems to think he could push you over like everyone one else!” Sansa snarled then she gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh, Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Baelish I didn’t mean.”

Baelish smiled. “You’re free to be angry, Sansa.” He walked to the water cooler and poured her a cup. “Drink,” he said as she took the paper cup. “I was surprised when you wanted to move out on your own again.”

Sansa swallowed hard as she drank, she felt has if a stone lodged itself there. “I thought I would all right.”

“It has been quiet,” Baelish then shook his head. “I only allowed you to move into that little cottage of mine because I figured it would be safe there.”

Sansa thought of Sandor, perhaps Baelish hired him to kill on sight.

“If anything happens while you’re there I’ll feel responsible-”

“It is because of you I am able to feel safe,” she insisted. “If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t even be here. I have this job...I have my life back.” She sniffled and forced a smile. “If anything else were to happen then it’s because-” she hesitated. “It’s because it’s just him.”

Baelish sighed, “do you want me to take you home?” He asked.

Sansa shook her head and put on a smile. “I should be fine,” she murmured as she stood up. Her and Lady walking to the door with Baelish. “I stayed on the crowded path to get here. And if it was him then he should’ve seen me come in here.”

Baelish opened the door and scanned the area, looking around for any signs.

“Thank you, Mr. Baelish,” Sansa said as he held the door for her. She stepped outside and took a deep breath. “I’ll let you know when I get home.” 

“I would appreciate it,” Baelish smiled at her and pet her head, cupping her cheek. “Have a good Sunday.”

Sansa nodded and pulled away. “You should go home. Stop worrying about work.” She smiled down at Lady and they walked back down the street. She took a deep breath and exhaled. She felt a little better talking to Baelish. Even better as she began heading home and seeing a few runners and walkers along the way. 

Lady stopped in the middle of the route and wrapped her leash around Sansa, trying to walk behind her. 

“Lady, you trying to trip me or-” she stopped, seeing Sandor walking up behind him. “Oh, it’s your boyfriend.”

Sandor frowned, walking up to meet them. Lady and her leash a bridge joining them. He pet her as she stood beside him, pawing at the bag in his hand.

“I was just on my way home,” Sansa replied, but felt stupid after saying her. She then extended Lady’s leash to him. “Want the reigns?”

Sandor instead reached for the heavy bag in her arms. “You never walk this way.”

“Oh it’s Sunday,” she chuckled. “So I decided to walk all the way around,” she lied.

Sandor frowned, having spotted her leaving Baelish’s office when he left the pet store. He kept his mouth shut, she was free to live her life however she chose. Baelish wasn’t the worst candidate she could choose. A girl like her could do better, though.

“I was going to make a big breakfast,” Sansa replied. “Or well, I guess it’d be brunch at this point,” she rambled on, nervous. “I feel like I at least owe you something for being so good to Lady.” She told the truth, but behind it, she didn’t want to be alone. She wanted someone to see this big man through her window, see she wasn’t alone and she had someone fearsome in her home. She felt bad wanting to use Sandor this way. She was sure he’d understand if she ever laid out her circumstances to him.

“You sure use food a lot,” he growled. 

Sansa blushed, wondering if he was going to make another dirty joke at her expense. “There’s also coffee,” she sniffed, turning her nose up. “Besides, my mother always said that food was a great equalizer.”

That was a new way to put it, Sandor thought. “Equalizer?”

“Everyone needs it, everyone loves it,” Sansa smiled. “And all the greats always solved their problems over a big feast.”

“The greats solved their problems over a bloody battlefield.”

“That’s because they didn’t have a good cook,” she blushed and tittered out a nervous laugh.

Sandor sniffed, yet smiled. He couldn’t admit she made a decent joke.

They walked in silence for a moment, Sansa breaking it when she grew fed up with it. “So are you joining me or not?”

Sandor scoffed. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Sansa giggled. She took her grocery bag from him as they came to the cottage. “I’ll send Lady after you when it’s all ready.” 

“Just have the coffee ready,” he growled at her. 

“Coffee, right,” she nodded, hiking the bag up. “How do you take it?” She asked.

“What?”

“I’ll have the cup ready for you,” she replied. “How do you take it?”

He grimaced and shook his head. “Nah, nah,” he scoffed. “Just have the pot ready. I’ll fucking make it myself. I don’t need you to go fixing my cup for me.”

Sansa sighed. “Fine. The coffee will be ready in five,” she replied to him as she pulled her keys out at the door. “You can come up whenever you damn well please.” She teased.  
Sandor left her then, stalking down the hill to his apartment. Something seemed strange about her invitation as if she was asking him for some other reason than being hospitable. If she wanted a man around why didn’t she go and ask her Mr. Baelish? He sneered to himself as he thought this.

He stripped down, tossing his nasty gym clothes aside. A girl as pretty as her could have any man she wanted. Yet she was surrounding herself with old men who had no business sniffing around her. He scoffed if it weren’t for the dog he’d try to have nothing to do with her.

After his shower, he changed and went upstairs. The smell of the coffee made him feel a tiny bit less grumpy. The following scent of pepper and onion was just as welcomed. The sizzling of the bacon made him a touch nervous.

“That was quick,” Sansa turned around and pointed to a stool before the counter. She had more furniture now. A big overstuffed sofa and matching ottoman, both heather gray. There was an old wicker rocking chair painted yellow. A coffee table in the center like looked like an old trunk. 

In the kitchen, there were stools around the counter, and in the corner was a booth like from a restaurant. The table covered with a cloth with painted lemons all over it.

Sansa pushed a tray before him that had sugar and cream on it as well as the pitcher of coffee and a thick mug. “Make yourself at home.” Her hair tied up, showing off her neck.

He scoffed, pouring his coffee and adding a dash of cream. 

Sansa turned back to the stove before he noticed her spying on him. 

“Aside from equalizing me,” Sandor started with a cough. “Why do you insist on feeding me all the time?”

Sansa turned and looked at him. “Well...the first time you fixed my bed.” She replied. She blushed, “and you’ve been helping me with Lady, so I feel like that warrants some reward. I don’t actually know much else to do but feed you.”

“What makes you think that?”

Sansa shrugged. “I don’t know I just...you don’t seem like you’d take money. I think you’d laugh in my face if I attempted to flirt-”

Sandor sputtered on his coffee and Sansa’s smile spread across her face, beaming as she handed him a towel. 

“You act tough,” she replied. “Sure,you look scary,” she mopped up the counter then touched the towel to his face. “But-”

He flinched when she touched him, taking the towel away to clean himself up. “But?” He scoffed at her.  
“Lady is the best judge of character,” Sansa went to the oven, flipping the bacon. “It took me a while to realize that. Before I thought she was just crazy.” She covered the pan. “I learned to watch her around people. Who she liked and especially around people she didn’t. She doesn’t just go to anyone, even people she likes.” She looked back over Sandor. “When she first met you, it was like love at first sight with me. I’ve never seen her like that.”

“Your point?” He huffed.

Sansa had more to say, more she thought. No one took a neighbor's dog into their home and fed them enough treats they stockpiled them. Someone who did those things must be lonesome and must need someone, even a dog, around to make them feel less alone. 

“Nothing,” Sansa shrugged. “Just saying if you’re Lady’s friend, then you’re mine.”

Sandor sighed, shoulders slouching. “You can think that all you want.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and began plating food, cheesy omelet smothered with green bell pepper, onion, and mushroom, bacon, and a piece of toast. “I hope you like it.” She said as she set the plate before him. “I also have some fruit if you want a little.”

Sandor stabbed into the omelet. “This is fine.”

“Fine,” Sansa took the seat beside him. As she ate, she noticed his scent. He smelled nice and clean, better yet warm. He reached for her coffee and took a deep gulp.

She glanced up at her, her eyes trailing along the burns on his face. The first time she saw him they were shocking. Each day she saw him in the morning, and more and more she grew used to the sight of him. She had to admit to herself there were things about him she found... attractive.

“Everything all right?” She asked, standing up to refill her cup.

He pushed his mug out to her. “I’ll take a top off.”

She smiled, able to jump into action and fix his coffee. She topped him off, a dash of cream with it. “Here you go.”

He shook his head at her, taking the mug as he finished off his plate.

Sansa leaned across the counter, her chin in her hands. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“I don’t have to tell you shit,” he grumbled into his coffee.

She frowned at him, every time she tried to talk to him it was like he was smacking her knuckles with a butterknife. 

“You apparently can’t be civil either.”

“No one’s been civil to me. I just pay back in kind.”

“Oh, and I suppose I’ve just been throwing rotten fruit at you this whole time. My mistake!” She snatched his empty plate away and shoved it into the sink.

“I told you before you didn’t need to play nice with me.”

Sansa whipped around. “I’m not playing!” She snapped. She tried to cool herself, she was better than his obvious attempts to rile her up. “Well, you like dogs that’s obvious. Why don’t you have one of your own?”

“Never found one that liked me.”

It was small, but it was something. “Well Lady-” a knock at the door cut her off. “Excuse me,” she murmured as she went. She answered, a man handing her a bouquet of flowers. She seemed pleased at first, as soon as she read the card her face went grim. She looked sick and terrified. She took the flowers and tossed them into the garbage, shoving them down and tying the bag shut. She looked up at him and she tried to smile.

“Sorry about that,” she smoothed a lock of hair away from her face.

“Not your favorite blossom?” He asked.

Sansa fumbled with her hands for a moment, she could see her shuddering, her struggle to keep herself composed and to keep from crying.

“Girl,” he growled at her.

She shook her head, turning around and pretending to wash dishes. “Oh, it’s nothing really!” She laughed, yet he could hear the tears all the same. 

How could flowers have her so scared? While she wasn’t paying attention, he grabbed up the card that fell out of the waste basket when she shoved the flowers down.

“Congrats on the move. Thank goodness Baelish was there to help you again.”

He frowned, placing the card in his pocket.

When she turned around, her cheeks were ruddy and lashes damp, eyes in the beginning stages of turning red. “Got soap in my eye!” She feigned laughter again. “Uhm...I’ll be a moment but...make yourself at home. You can watch TV if you like.” She pointed to the living room as she made a beeline for the bathroom.

Lady followed her, whimpering at the closed bathroom door.

Sandor looked over the card again. There was no signature, it didn’t need one, she seemed to know right away who sent it to her. Baelish again, how did he factor into this? At first glance, it seemed harmless, but for the master is was an obvious and harmful threat. She was scared, and it was now obvious to Sandor why she was insistent on being nice to him.


	4. Jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talks with important people in their lives begin helping Sansa and Sandor realize things.

The doctor ripped the paper and handed it off to Sandor. “I think things are alright.” She replied as she hung her chart back on the wall. “You’re in a good place, but that prescription is just me being a worrywart.” She then slid her glasses off her nose and eyed Sandor. “You will get it this time, correct?”

Sandor glared slightly then sighed. “Perhaps.”

“No excuses, you’re still a young man. There are things you need to take care of now.” She scolded him. One of the few people in the world who ever talked to him like that, which was why he continued seeing her.

“Any changes?” She asked as she sat back down. “Any discomfort with your-”

“No, that’s fine,” he clipped. “I came here because you kept pestering me, you don’t need to keep poking around with my other medical abnormalities.” 

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Just a concerned party.”

“Concerned about your wallet.” 

She smirked at him. “Isn’t everyone?” She handed him the prescription paper as he was heading for the door. “Mr. Clegane?”

He snatched the paper. “Fine,” he grumbled. 

“You seem in high spirits,” she replied.

“Your hour is up, Doc.” He snarled with a smirk at her. “My insurance won’t pay another one.”

“You aren’t telling me everything, Sandor.” She then shrugged. “I’ll bring it up in the next session.” 

Sandor frowned after her. “Fine,”

She perked up and then motioned to the couch. “You’ve missed your last three sessions,” she replied. “I won’t tell your insurance about this hour if you don’t.”

Sandor sat back down and huffed. “There’s this...girl.”

The doctor looked a little shocked she had to collect herself for a moment. “A woman?” She asked. “Are you attempting to date?”

“No!” Sandor snapped. “She’s my new neighbor.”

“The apartment above you?” She asked.

Sandor nodded and huffed. “She’s…” He shook his head and stood up. “Never mind, I should just go.”

“Whoa! Now hold on here,” she grabbed his hand. “You started this, something is obviously bothering you. I won’t force you to stay, but if this is weighing on you enough to actually bring it up to me-”

Sandor pulled his hand back and walked across the room and back, pacing. “She has connections to my boss.”

“The lawyer?” She asked. “Baelish?”

“Yes,” he snarled under his breath. “She’s smart, going to school and shit. Has her head put on straight, apparently comes from rich stock-”

“You seems awfully invested in this young woman. Are you developing feelings for her?”

“That’s fucking asinine! I’m simply telling you what I know! It’s my job to collect information like that!”

She didn’t flinch when he barked at her, instead, she continued writing in the ledger. “Your work, of course.”

He scoffed, rubbing his chin hard. “I’m simply stating…” he huffed and then ran his fingers through his hair. “I think she’s in trouble.”

“And you want to protect her.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“Well it’s true isn’t it?” Her voice was calm and even.

Sandor sat back down, holding his head in his hands. 

“Who seeks who out?” She asked, quiet now. “Do you go to her? Or does she come to you?” She inquired.

He sighed,lifting his head and looking at her. “She comes to me.” He answered. “She also has this dog and I take care of it while she’s gone all day.”

“She asked you to do this?”

He was silent for a long pause. “No.”

The doctor cocked her brow up slightly and held in the sigh she wanted to let out. “Sandor, are you taking her dog without her knowledge?”

Sandor’s mouth opened then closed again. “No! She figured it out,” he grumbled, rubbing his arm. His hand came down on his knee, his fingers seeming to feel along an edge. “She said it was alright. She didn’t mind I kept the dog during the day.”

She nodded, scribbling in her book. “Go on. Why do you think she comes to you?”

He shrugged, “hell if I know,” he grumbled. “Do I look like I know anything about women?” He held his hand out as if she would answer him. He scoffed and continued rubbing his fingers along his knee. 

“I can tell she’s scared sometimes,” he admitted. “I’m a big frightening guy so I guess…”

She glanced up at him, adjusting her glasses after they had slipped off. “Do you believe you could make her feel safe if she asked it of you?”

Sandor was pensive for a moment, his finger clenching along his knee and gripping it. His good eye darkened and he lowered his head slightly. He then stood up. “That’s all.”

She smiled up at him. “That was good,” she stood with him. “Get your prescription this time. I’m calling it in as soon as the door hits your ass.” She scolded as she walked him to the door.

“Whatever, Doc.”

“What’s my name?”

“Whatever, Doctor Brothers,” he growled as he left her office.

He had been going to her for a long time, she came highly recommended. Both her and her sister. The Brothers sisters, he had heard people laughing. He chose the elder sister, due to history with patients who suffered from trauma and PTSD. People jokingly called her Elder Brothers.

He took the prescription he had given her, something or another for anxiety. He scoffed, he would pick it up just to get her off his back. Then he would toss it in the back of his mirror to be forgotten about.

He had a job that night, and he needed to get ready for it when he got home. Unfortunately, the line at the pharmacy had other plans. A line of old ladies and their husbands, he thought to himself as he stood at the back of the line. The store around him busy with what looked like college kids picking up lunches and supplies for school. He grumbled under his breath, cursing Elder Brothers’ prescription as he waited.

 

From across the store, eyes were spying on him. 

“So is that him?”

“Magarey you’re embarrassing me,” Sansa scoffed as she pretended to be interested in boxes of bath salts.

“He’s a big lunk isn’t he?” Margaery cooed. She then whistled. “That back! Looks like a sack full of angry snakes.” She turned to Sansa, smirking. “The scar makes him look kind of dangerous huh?” She giggled, pinching Sansa’s rear.

“Do you ever turn off?” Sansa slapped back at her hand.

Margaery bit her lip, turning back to her spying. “I can see why you’d wanna live in a house with him,” she murmured. “Big scary, muscular...hairy, brute like him would even scare Loras away...well…” she thought for a moment. “Maybe scare him a little.”

Sansa huffed. “Yes, Sandor is...big and hairy,” she bit her tongue when she said that. “But he’s not living with me. And I don’t want him tangled up in my shit.”

Margaery scoffed. “You two live in the same building. He deserves to know if shit is going to fuck with his house.” She tilted her head, still watching Sandor. “Could climb him like a tree.”

“Shut it!” Sansa tugged her down off the shelf she was standing on.

“I’m just curious,” Margaery dusted her jacket off and took her purse back from Sansa, adjusting it on her shoulder. “You just tell me you share the place with ‘some guy’ and then never tell me anything about him.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I don’t know much about him.”

“What does he do?”

“Play with Lady,” Sansa placed a bottle of lemon scented bubble bath in her basket.

“No, for work.”

Sansa shrugged. “I haven’t asked.” She sighed and chewed her lip. “I mean...I’ve tried to be friendly and everything. But he doesn’t talk about himself at all! He’s frustrating and mean and-”

“I bet his dick is huge,” Margaery clicked her tongue.

Sansa coughed and sputtered, grabbing the soft supple underbelly of Margaery’s arm and squeezing hard.

Margaery yowled and tried to pry her off. “That fucking hurts you ginger bitch!”

A store employee cleared their throat at them and they ducked into another aisle.

“Why did you say that!” Sansa whined. “Now every time I see him I’m going to be hearing you voice yelling at me ‘Huge dick! Huge dick! Huge dick!’” She hissed in a hushed tone at Magarey. Her whole face from the tips of her ears to the base of her neck blood red.

Margaery was rubbing her arm where Sansa pinched. “Good!” She scoffed.

“Good?” Sansa scoffed back.

“I mean…” she waved her hand in the air and sighed. “I’m not saying you should have a ‘9 and a Half Weeks’ situation or anything,” she huffed. “But you should totally have a ‘9 and a Half Weeks’ situation’!”

Sansa scowled at her, brows raised and eyes a little wide. “You’re my superior. You’re my mentor.” She grumbled.

“And I am the shit at what I do.” Margaery laughed. “But just because I’m the top of my class doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun.”

Sansa shook her head. “That’s not my style.”

“No, you’re the ‘Princess Bride’ dying for the day someone says ‘as you wish’ and whisks you off your feet and away from the horrible Prince Humperdink.”

“Is that bad?” Sansa laughed.

“Don’t be Buttercup and give up just because the first prince didn’t work out.”

Sansa bit her cheek, running her hand over a glass bowl on the shelf. “I need a good mixing bowl,” she mumbled under her breath.

Margaery scratched the back of Sansa’s neck. “It’s a pretty bowl. But I have some at home you can just have.” She looped her arm around Sansa’s waist. “Let's pay for this then go get something to eat.” She smiled brightly.

Sansa smiled back, grateful she had a friend like Margaery who knew when to lift her spirits at the right times. “Thanks,” she sighed with relief.

Margaery’s arm squeezed around her waist then released as they headed towards the front. Her brown eyes going from warm, pleasant hot cocoa, to frost-bitten earth in a second as she turned to study Sandor one last time. Sansa slipped ahead of her, going to the counter. Margaery lingered for a moment, her eyes making quick work of Sandor. Her lip curled slightly as she noted the scars on his face, the way he favored one leg over the other.

“Not war,” she thought to herself, calculating. “An accident, maybe. A fire. A car crash.” She ticked off things in her head. “Cruel intent?” 

Sandor turned slightly as if feeling her sharp gaze slicing him to ribbons. She saw her briefly as she walked away. The click of her high heels the only real thing he caught of Margaery.

He retrieved the prescription and then was gone. Back at home, he went into his bedroom and opened the safe at the back of his closet. He pulled out the canvas bag, taking out from inside a camera and several lenses. He laid them out in a row on his dresser, checking the bag for a pouch full of memory cards, a spare cell phone, and three bandanas. 

He then pulled out the spare set of keys and placed them in the canvas bag. He then took out the leather holster and attached it around his chest, adjusting it so it fit comfortable when pulling the gun out from under his arm. He checked it and aimed it, then placed it back in the holster. 

He returned to the camera and the lenses. He checked each lens in the sunlight before placing it back in the bag in its protective slot. He went over the camera, checking the battery life, replacing the memory card, and then putting it back into the bag.

He took his bag and hauled it to the kitchen. There, he prepared a full pot of coffee. He pulled from the cabinet a large, metal thermos and set it down for when the coffee finished brewing.

Lady was before him in an instant, wagging her tail and looking up at him with longing eyes. He stared back at her for a moment before opening the box beside him and tossing her a treat. She caught it and wagged her tail, trotting over to his sofa where she laid down and made herself at home.

As he listened to the sound of the coffee pot burbling and hissing, along with Lady crunching away on her treat. Lady suddenly sat up. Her ears twitching, flicking back and forth. She jumped from the sofa and raced upstairs in a hurried state.

Sandor frowned, never seeing her act this way. He followed behind her, stepping up the stairs and peeking around. He saw Lady standing at the door, the fur on her back standing up, her lips curled, a snarl escaping her throat.

Sandor stepped into the kitchen, and Lady relaxed some at his presence. He went to the window by the door and parted the curtains. Outside he saw a car parked out front, deep blood red, a golden stag as the hood ornament. It sped off as he appeared, but he recognized it just the same.

He had tailed that very car for months during one of his first jobs when he moved to Winter Falls. How strange it should appear back in his life now. 

He recalled the bouquet Sansa had received, the strange reaction she had gotten when she read the card attached. He was putting pieces together, and some things suddenly made sense about the master.

He pet Lady’s head, rubbing her ears and massaging her cheeks. “Good girl,” he growled to her. “Good girl.” 

He returned downstairs, Lady refusing to leave the front door. With the coffee finished brewing, he poured it all into the thermos and sealed it tightly. As he was packing it he heard the master's return upstairs, she was earlier than normal. The click of her heels on the floor and then the thud of her bare feet after she took them off. He turned his ear, listening for anything strange.

He heard her leave, but a moment later there was a knock on his door. It was her.

“You could’ve come down the stairs,” he snarled.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” she swallowed,her hands clinched along the hem of her shirt.

“What is it?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m having a study party with some of my friends and classmates tonight,” she spit out. “I just wanted to let you know incase there’s noise.” She blushed as she looked up at him. “We’ll have tons of food...so you can come up and help yourself if you’d like.”

“I’ll be working tonight.” He growled.

“Oh-” her eyes grew a little wide at this. “You work nights?” She asked.

“Sometimes.” He then remembered the gun under his arm and he zipped up his hoodie.

Sansa bit her lip then smiled, chuckling softly to herself. “What? Are you Batman or something?” She was nervous.

“Something,” he grunted.

She pressed her lips into a tight, firm line. “Oh.”

Sandor huffed, regretting what he was about to ask. “Does one of your friends drive a red car?” He asked.

She stiffened and a gasp escaped she tried to cover up. “Re-red car?” She asked.

“If not, next time they come around I’ll tell them to fuck off,” he growled and he saw her eyes light up. “If they’re trying to bother you, you tell me.”

She sniffled, rubbing her eyes and laughing to cover it up. “Oh wow uhm-” she let out a mix of a sob and laugh. “Yeah. Please. I don’t have the guts to do it myself, so…”

“Fuck off it is then,” he growled as he let her come inside.

Sansa was walking towards the stairs then she stopped. She turned and gathered her courage, biting her cheek. “What do you do?” She asked. “I just…” she chuckled. “I have this ridiculous idea in my head.”

Sandor sniffed, “what if you’re right?”

Sansa blushed, trying to hide her cheek behind her shoulder. “They say truth is stranger than fiction.” She then shook her head. “Never mind,” another nervous laugh. “None of my business.”

“Tell me,” he growled. “I’m curious now.”

She huffed, her whole face turning bright pink. “Well!” she coughed and covered her mouth. “Well, Mr. Baelish mentioned you had worked for him. Mr. Baelish is good at his job, but there are a lot of rumors so...when I first met you I kind of...I kind of assumed you were a…” she wanted something to happen to keep her from saying what she was going to say. She also wanted a glass of water. She was burning up, her throat painfully dry.

“A hitman.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sandor held his hand over his face and shook his head as he tried to hold back his laughter.

“I told you it was stupid!”

“I’m going to have to kill you now,” he snarled.

Sansa’s mouth dropped open and it flopped for a moment. Her pink blush draining and her skin went pale. Her hands raising up as she tried to assess if he was kidding or not. If he wasn’t, could she run? Could she save herself?

Sandor then bust out laughing and Sansa’s look of bewilderment turned into embarrassed anger. Her face going from pure white to blood red.

“Not funny!” She stomped her foot.

Sandor laughed then shook his head. “You knew I worked for Baelish, why not aks him?” He sniffed, catching his breath.

“I’m just his intern right now,” she replied. “I didn’t think it would be professional.”

Sandor furrowed his brow. “Intern?”

“Yes,” Sansa huffed, wiping her face. “I’m a law student, he’s a lawyer.”

“Law student?”

Sansa’s eyes bugged and she squeezed her lips tight together. “Yes! What did you think I was?” She knew as soon as she asked it. “Did you think Mr. Baelish and I were-?”

“Truth is stranger than fiction, girl.”

Sansa reached for the thing nearest her and tossed it at him. “Then pray tell what are if you’re not his hitman!” She snapped.

“Private investigator,” he growled.

“Really?”

“You don’t think I could be a P.I?”

“I assumed you were Batman or a hitman,” Sansa scoffed, snapping her hands to her hips. She felt relieved, like a huge weight had lifted from her shoulders. “So…”

“So,” he sniffed. “You don’t strike me as a wannabe lawyer.”

She frowned. “I’d guess not if I’m someone’s secret lover!” She shook her head. “I haven’t even dated anyone since I got into law school. So get any notions that I’m some sultry seductress out of your head.”

“Believe me, I had no misconceptions of you being anything close to a sultry seductress,” he sneered at her. “That’s all Lady.”

Sansa snorted, covering her mouth and nose with her hands. “Well, I’m glad we got all that cleared up.” She waved her hands out. “I’m not Jessica Rabbit, and you’re not Batman.”

“Where the fuck are you getting Jessica Rabbit?”

“You know what I mean!” She snapped. She folded her arms across her chest and looked up the stairs. “I have to go get ready.” 

He waved his hand to the stairs.

“If food is ready...try and eat before you go.” She shoulders pinched up. “I mean...I don’t care or anything.” She stepped on the first stair.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”

Sansa smiled, biting it back. “I won’t expect you either way.” She made her way back upstairs, Lady still at her post by the door. 

Sansa began working, preparing snacks she had bought earlier that day. Frozen treats and a plate of cold cuts. She also made her special lemon cakes, the entire upstairs smelling like a dreamy pastry shop.

Margaery let herself inside, Lady giving up her post and going back to her bed.

“You’re early,” Sansa said as she wiped her face off with her apron.

“Good,” she smirked, walking over and taking a few piping hot pizza bagels from the tray Sansa was setting. “I have news from work.”

Sansa furrowed her brow. “From work?”

Margaery had a mouth full of bagel. She nodded, eyes widening to show how exciting the gossip and intrigue was. She swallowed and coughed, “well-” she reached into the fridge for a drink. “Ok so, you know how Tyrion only inherited the firm because the twins were god knows where?”

“Paris, I believe, but go on.”

“Well! Pretty boy Jaime was in the office today.”

Sansa’s jaw dropped. “So does that mean Cersei-?”

Margaery flipped her arms in the air and shrugged. “No idea. All I know is that Jaime comes in, flirts with me a little, then Tyrion comes out and gets this look in his eyes. It was scary for a moment. That’s why Baelish let me leave early.”

“I wonder what’s going on.” Sansa murmured, her mind elsewhere just then.

“That explains the red car,” Margaery shook her head, clicking her tongue. “What if it’s not the little blonde peckerwood pestering you?”

Sansa’s look went grim. “What do you mean?”

“What is Cersei is going mama lion?” She asked. “Considering she wasn’t around much during the whole ordeal.”

“No!” Sansa laughed. “Cersei wouldn’t dirty her hands like that.”

“Isn’t her ex-husband your dad’s best friend?”

“Robert?” Sansa nodded. “Yeah, but he’s been hunting in Canada for the past…” she calculated in her head. “3 years.”

“Maybe that’s why she felt safe coming back.” Margaery reached for more snacks and Sansa slapped her hand away. “You don’t need to worry, though. Baelish is still in your court, not to mention he still has all the evidence from your case stored away.”

“Evidence,” Sansa reflected. “I know he had gotten some footage and photographs from an anonymous source.” She licked the corner of her mouth, tasting bitter, sour lemon. “Do you think Mr. Baelish used a private investigator for that?”

Margaery nodded. “Oh yeah! He would have to. That’s how Baelish makes his bread and butter. Cheating spouses, fraud, blackmail.” She glanced over Sansa, seeing her eyes light up and mouth drop open. “You look like you know something juicy.”

“Oh?” Sansa snapped to attention. “Oh, the cakes!” She gasped, kneeling down and opening up the oven.

Margaery eyed her,smirking slightly. “Baelish has all sorts of people on his payroll.” She replied. “How else do you think he has his fingers in so many pies.”

Sansa placed the tray of lemon cakes on the cooling rack and sighed. “We all knew that.”

Margaery dusted her hands off and walked into the living room, turning on the TV. “So where’s that neighbor of yours? Did you invite him like I asked?”

Sansa scowled at Margaery. “I did. But he has work.”

“Unh,” Margaery shrugged, turning on a music station. “I was hoping to see how he acted around you.”

“You’re creepy looking when you read people,” Sansa huffed. “You look like some evil pomeranian.”

Margaery scoffed and clasped her hand over her chest. “That hurts my feelings.”

Sansa stuck her tongue out at her, taking off her oven mitts to answer her phone. She checked her messages and huffed. “The others are running late,” she grumbled. “Apparently they don’t know how to make left turns.”

Margaery giggled then turned as she heard footsteps come up the stairs. Her eyes widening as Sandor came through the door. She hid her smirk behind her hand.

“I thought you were having a party,” he growled.

“Everyone is running late.” Sansa sighed. “So feel free to eat what you want.”

Sandor’s gaze locked with Margaery’s and they watched each other for a long moment. 

“You don’t wanna help us study do you, sir?” Margaery teased.

“Not really,” Sandor growled as he looked over the spread Sansa had set on the counter. He reached for one of the lemon cakes. “I don’t care much for lawyers, law students don’t seem like a step up either.”

Margaery smirked. “Students, in general, are not a good lot.”

Sansa gave her a dirty look and she pulled out a Tupperware container. She filled it with food and handed it to Sandor. “You can take this with you if you want.”

Sandor glanced back at Margaery then looked back to Sansa. “I don’t need it.”

“You’re going to tell that face now?” Margaery chided, teasing and poking them both.

“Better to have it and not need it than not have it and need it.” Sansa urged, wanting to turn around and throw hot food at Margaery.

Sandor snarled and took the container. “I’m not going to eat any of it.”

“Then don’t.” Sansa shrugged.

Margaery watched closely, knowing how Sansa felt all along. What she was wanting to see was what Sandor felt. This man, really more bear than man, he was doing his best to hide. Margaery, keen-eyed and perceptive from birth, saw right through him.


	5. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery convinces Sansa to take steps in Sandor's direction.

Sansa yawned and stretched her legs, standing up from the floor where her books were all spread out. “I’m going to make some coffee.” She grunted as she stood up.

Margaery watched her for a moment, shutting her book and rubbing her eyes. All their friend’s who joined the study group left already. She and Sansa were finishing up homework before calling it a night.

“Coffee this late?” Margaery grumbled as she placed herself on the sofa. “You won’t sleep.”

Sansa shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

Margaery propped her head up to watch her. “He probably won’t be back until morning, so you can go to bed now and wake up early.”

Sansa’s hand slipped and she spilled grounds all over the counter. “What?” She laughed. “No! I just want coffee is that so wrong?”

“Mm,” she smirked, tucking her arm under her chin. “You’re so transparent.”

Sansa frowned, turning towards her. “No, I’m not.”

“He was a little harder to read,” she yawned, stretching out and rolling onto her back. “Even if he couldn’t see out of one eye, all eyes are on you, baby.”

“Sandor’s just a neighbor.” Sansa sniffed.

“You packed him a snack box!” Margaery scoffed, throwing her hands in the air. “All that was missing was a chaste kiss and a slap on the ass as he walked out the door.”

Sansa was silent herself, still she slammed the coffee pot shut and pressed the button extra hard.

“You want to climb him, mount him, and ride him to the ranch like a good little cowgirl,” Margaery smirked. “Admit it.”

“You don’t know everything,” Sansa grumbled. 

“I’m psychic,” Margery tapped her temple as she sat up. “I can read people’s minds and see all they have to say. It’s my gift. My specialty!”

Sansa grimaced. “It isn’t magic. You’re just cold reading.”

“But I am good at it. And it isn’t cold reading, it’s just another language you don’t know you’re speaking, and I am the only translator.” Margaery sighed, proud and ego inflated.

“He’s just a neighbor,” Sansa pouted. “He just sees some annoying girl when he talks to me. He thought I was Mr. Baelish’s lover!” She scoffed.

“He likes you,” Margaery replied. “He’s just too big and dumb to admit it to himself.”

“No,” Sansa murmured, holding herself. Her hands squeezing at her shoulders. “He only speaks to me for Lady.”

Margaery sniffed. “So...are you saying you’re jealous of your dog?”

Sansa pouted, looking away.

“Oh my god, you are,” Margaery replied deadpanned.

Sansa turned her back to her and shoved another lemon cake in her face.

“Oh, my poor sweet porcelain doll,” Margaery clasped her hand over her chest. She forced herself to keep her laughter back, but it hurt. “You’re jealous that he gives Lady, a dog,more attention than you.”

“It’s stupid,” Sansa grumbled between bites. “But sometimes…”

“You want his big, hard hands petting your hair,” Margaery whispered. “Stroking your neck and rubbing your aching chest.”

Sansa snapped around. “Cool it!” She raised her hands in surrender. “I give up! White flag. Case closed. You win, I like him. So what?”

“Because now is the fun part!” Margaery stood up and sauntered over to her. “You’ve been doing the whole cute, lonely 50’s housewife. So sweet and cute and innocent.” She bent at the waist. “Oh please sir, my refrigerator is bust,” she cooed in a simpering accent. “And I’m afraid my little hands aren’t strong enough to hold the wrench.”

“Stop it!” Sansa scolded. “I’ve not been doing…” she waved her hand at her, “whatever that was.” She gagged.

“What I’m saying is, is that he’s a big, dumb bear,” Margaery explained. “Not only that, he has the whole ‘for who could ever love a beast’ thing going on. You have to, have to, have to be direct with this one.”

Sansa bit her lip. “Oh.”

“You can still be a lady about it,” Margaery rolled her eyes. “Invite him to dinner. Wine him. Dine him. Bat your eyelashes. Bend over in front of him. Touch his knee. Gently tuck his hair behind his ear.” She made each motion she said on Sansa, gentle and soft. “Then when you go in for the kiss, bite his bottom lip when you pull away.” She popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth. “That’ll drive him crazy and then he’ll come begging for you.”

Sansa’s cheeks burned bright. “You need to write a book so I never have to listen to you anymore.”

Margaery laughed. “I’ll help you.” She replied. “Make a nice big fancy dinner. Lots of candles,lots of flowers-”

“No candles,” Sansa stopped her. “Uhm...he doesn’t like them. Every time he sees I have one burning he blows it out so-”

Margaery checked something on her internal list and she smirked. “Then...dimmers. We’ll figure that out.” She smirked. “I have this sexy little dress that’ll make him want you for dessert.”

Sansa bit her cheek and she huffed. “No,” she shook her head. “I don’t think he sees me anyway than Lady’s owner.”

Margaery scoffed. “Then let’s change that! It’s either dinner or continue being jealous of your dog.” She motioned to Lady, splayed out with her belly exposed on the floor. “Be sane,” she pleaded. “For my sake.”

Sansa sighed. “Maybe,” she shrugged and tried to get the image of her head. His hand on her neck, her fingers brushing against the rough stubble on his cheek. His lips warm as they pressed against her own. 

She shook her head, clearing it. “He’ll probably say no...but I’ll ask.”

“That’s my baby,” Margaery pinched Sansa’s cheeks. She released her and sighed. “I’m just so glad he’s so different from Joffrey and Willas.”

“Why?” Sansa asked.

“Oh well,” Margaery stretched her arms out. “Joffrey should be obvious,” she clicked her tongue. “And Willas well...don’t get me wrong I love my brother, and I know if you had stayed with him you two could have been comfortable together. But that’s it, comfortable.” She sighed and smiled at Sansa. “This new one,” she motioned her head towards the stairs, “maybe that’s a sign of hope.”

Sansa bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Maybe.” 

Margaery yawned and stretched, her hands raised over her head. “Well, I’m exhausted. You coming to bed?”

 

“No, I uhm…” Sansa followed her. “I’m going to finish my paper then I’ll be right there.” She cleared her clothes from the bed and gave Margaery a night shirt.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Margaery yawned as she flopped down on the bed.

“I won’t,” Sansa returned to the living room and sat back down around her books. She huffed, exhausted and irritated by the work. She went back to her essay, feeling herself nod off as she did. She decided on the coffee.

She added only a dash of cream and dunked a lemon cake inside it. She would be glad when this semester was over and winter break would start. She could rest, relax. Snuggle up in warm sweaters and not have to worry about anything.

She bit her lip, admitting to herself it would be nice to snuggle up with someone. His big hand on her back where she was always cold. Her arms wrapped around him, her cheek pressed against his chest. She would whine when he wanted to get up to use the bathroom and make him feel guilty for leaving her alone and cold on the sofa. When he’d return, his hands would go up under her sweater, having washed his hands in ice cold water just to torment her. She would squeal and fight, but ultimately give in when he kissed her neck and his hands pushed up her bra.

She coughed and sputtered,pulling herself out of her fantasy. “Dammit Margaery,” she huffed, gulping down the coffee. “She’s getting in my head.” She walked back to her work and found she wasn’t able to focus on it at all.

She stretched out on the sofa, pulling the fluffy afghan around herself. She scanned through her phone, her email. Messages had built up during the study group. She began nodding off, her head lolling onto her shoulder.

She woke to what she thought was a gunshot and she hit the ground, covering her head. After a moment, she realized it was thunder. The rain was thrumming on the tin roof. She looked out the window at the downpour. She wondered if Sandor was alright, he was on his motorcycle.

After starting another pot of coffee, she sat and waited by the front window, feeling like a cold stone was sitting in her gut. She felt silly, waiting up for him like they were...dating. They weren’t and they might never will, she told herself. He was good to Lady, she corrected, that’s enough reason to worry.

A beam of light cut through the heavy rain and she heard the purr and roar of the motorcycle. She jumped up, making a speedy cup of coffee. Her hand shaking as she stirred the cup. She stood at the top of the stairs, Lady racing down before her. She waited, listening.

His door opened and shut. His low, rasp of a voice greeting Lady. She descended then, taking cautious steps down the stairs, a touch afraid, and a touch excited. She stood at the foot of the stairs, watching Sandor peel away his sopping wet shirt. His chest broad and furry. Well toned and taken care of. Her jaw dropped against her will.

The shirt splat against the floor and he jumped back. “Fuck!” He gasped, grasping his chest. “Girl!” He snarled at her. “The fuck you doing sneaking up on me?”

Sansa caught her breath, her cheeks looking splashed with berry juice. “Oh!” She held the coffee mug up. “I thought you’d be cold when you got in.”

He scoffed, shoulders slouching. “Why are you even awake at this hour.”

“The thunder earlier,” she admitted. “I don’t care much for loud noises like that.”

He took the mug and she stepped back, the backs of her ankles hitting the stairs. She watched as he drank, her eyes lingering on his bare body for longer than she cared to admit. So much to touch and feel. Was his skin soft? Was he warm? Would his breath shudder as her tongue lapped along his hip bone?

“Girl?”

She snapped to attention. “I wasn’t-” she cleared her throat. “I uhm…” she caught her breath, trying to steady herself to ask him the big question.

“Your coffee is shit.”

She frowned. “Is that how you tell someone thank you?”

He smirked. “For shit coffee, it is.”

“Then you don’t have to finish it,” she held her hand out for the mug. “I’ll take my shit coffee back and never offer it again.”

He laughed. “I am freezing to death, my cock to about to fall off my underwear are so wet and cold.”

Sansa’s mouth flopped open and closed for a moment. “We-well!”

“If you have something to say, save it,” he growled as he moved towards his bedroom. “I need a hot shower.”

He still held the coffee tight in his hand as he disappeared in the back.

Sansa cupped her hands arounds her cheeks, the heat radiating off them enough to light a match. She made her way upstairs and sat back on the sofa. She picked up her bag and searched through it, pulling out her planner. She looked through it and nodded, biting her lip as she wrote down a note for herself.

She felt nervous like she was when she was young and in high school. Her first kiss in the empty auditorium. That of course, was just the first step that led her down a nightmarish road. She had given her heart to a spoiled tyrant who still seemed bent on haunting her. 

She tried not giving him the power, of never thinking of him or allowing him to delay her dreams and wants. That’s why she decided to become a lawyer, that why she decided to move out on her own. Joffrey didn’t own her, no matter how much he claimed he did. 

She tried to date after him. During her freshman year, she met Margaery who became her best friend and mentor. Through her, she met her brother, Willas. They dated for two years before it ended. Since then she focused on her studies. She grew up from the little girl who swooned over young men.

She touched her lips, thinking of the feelings she got staring at Sandor. It was all new, all fresh. A high school girl with more names written in her notebook than actual notes. She smiled, setting her planner aside. 

“What are you smiling about so early in the morning?”

Sansa almost screamed, having forgotten Margaery slept over, as well as how bad she looked in the morning. She hadn’t washed her face before she went to bed, her makeup smeared and blurred all over. Her hair was a writhing tentacle-esque mass on her head.

“What?” Margaery snarled, lip curling.

Sansa shook her head. “You’re just...so beautiful.”

“I hate you so much.” Margaery pointed at her and flicked her finger in the direction of the kitchen. “You better make me feel like a princess when I get out of the shower.”

“Yes, dear,” Sansa watched as Margaery slithered off to the bathroom, knowing that once she emerged from the steam she would be glowing and new again.

She went to the kitchen, making new coffee and standing before the open fridge as she decided what to make for breakfast. She pulled out a few things then took the scrunchie around her wrist and tied up her hair in a sloppy bun.

 

Downstairs, Lady was wallering on Sandor’s bed as he sat on the edge, going through the photos he took that night. He saved them to one memory card, then he replaced it with a new one, duplicating the files. He placed the camera and duplicate files in the safe hidden in his closet as well as his gun and his spare keys. He took the first memory card and sealed it in a manila envelope.

He reached for the coffee mug on his nightstand and when he tipped it back, found it empty and cold. He grumbled, Lady sitting up as he stood. He held the coffee mug to her. “Take this to your master.”  
She tilted her head at him, tail thumping against his mattress.

“What good are you?” He snarled, rubbing her ears before stalking out of his bedroom. He stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up them as Lady returned home. As he went to take the first step his phone rang. He set the mug on his counter and answered, the small phone dwarfed by his hand.

“What is it?” He growled.

“Good, you’re there,” Baelish replied from the other end, sounding not the least bit surprised at all.

“What is it?” Sandor repeated.

“Did you get what I needed last night?” Baelish asked.

Sandor huffed, “I did. I’ll deliver it to you later.”

“Oh don’t worry about that.” Baelish murmured. “Just give it to your lovely, little neighbor.”

Sandor furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“She works for me. Just give her the memory card and have her deliver it to me. Save you all that time and hassle. You must be exhausted.”

Every word out of his smarmy mouth sounded patronizing. “She’s not involved with this,” Sandor growled. “I’ll bring it by myself-”

“Just send it with the girl. There’s nothing wrong with it. You both have my name on your paychecks.”  
“This is crucial evidence, I’d feel better-”

“I’ll call her and let her know you have something for me,” Baelish cut in before Sandor could finish. “I’ll send her with you check,” his smirk was palpable through the phone. “Good day, Mr. Clegane.” He hung up.

Sandor set his phone aside and pushed his hair away from his face. He was unsure how to feel about this. Baelish was particular about the delivery of the photographic evidence. Why trust the girl? He felt as if something was chewing on a raw exposed nerve. 

He trudged upstairs, clutching the coffee mug in his fist. But as he looked around, all he saw was the girl from the previous night. Her sharp brown eyes dissected him as if trying to find all the pieces and put them back together.

She turned and saw him, a calculating smirk crossing her lips. “Well look what the cat dragged in.” She tipped her steaming mug to her lips.

“I came to return this,” he placed the cup on the counter, “that’s all.”

“That’s all?” She chuckled. “Sure, sure.”

He frowned at her, unable to read her.

She set her mug down and picked up a spoon, stirring the yogurt and berries before her. “You busy Saturday night, big boy?”

He sneered. “What?”

Margaery pointed off to the bathroom where Sansa was getting a bath. “For her.”

He started walking away from Margaery who grabbed him, her manicured and pampered hands gripping his arm, unrelenting. 

“Hey, hey, I’m just trying to help my girl out.” She released when he stopped and she snapped her fingers, pointing for him to stand on the other side of the counter. 

He, of course, remained where he was.

“Saturday night,” she replied. “Wear a clean shirt,” she licked her lips. “I assume you only have one pair of jeans so...I dunno know try and wash the grime off em.”

“Get to the fucking point,” he snarled, lip curling, nostrils flaring.

“Mm,” she nodded, spinning around on her stool. “She’s going to cook you a steak. You will eat it. You will make small talk. You will flirt...if you can.”

He shook his head, shoulders slouching. “I still have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

Margaery clicked her tongue and sighed, her eyes rolling. “Have you never been on a date before?” She asked.

He was twice as confused now.

“She wants to ask you out, so I’m preparing you to say yes and behave as much as a gentleman as a wild mastodon like you can.”

He furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to talk but she stopped him.

“She is beautiful,” Margaery replied, her voice gentle and soft now. “But she isn’t lucky.” She sighed, shoulders heaving as she did. “First boyfriend was a horrible trainwreck. The second boyfriend was good to her but he was as boring as your favorite pair of socks. I say that with love,” she added, “he was my brother.”

His mouth opened to speak again and she cut him off a second time.

“She’s been so focused on school to compensate. She gets this place to finally relax and she finds she has a neighbor who doesn’t make her want to go running for the hills. I see it, I know you see it too.” She frowned as she lowered her pointing finger. “She feels safe for once, and why she feels safe with you I can’t say.”

He was quiet, frowning hard at Margaery as she laid down the law for him. His hand twitched, raising to touch his scars, his bad eye, but he stopped himself. His hand instead touching against his right thigh, feeling along something hidden.

“I’ll only continue her bad luck.”

Margaery’s eyes cut to the floor and she sighed. “You think so?”

“I know it,” he snarled.

“Then why do you care?” She asked. “If you didn’t care, you’d do it. Get kissed by the pretty girl and then let the bad luck crush her.”

“I’m not a monster,” he scoffed.

Margaery looked up as Sansa came out of the bathroom. “Feel better?” She asked, turning back to facing the counter.

“Mhm,” Sansa sighed as she came out, wrapped in a mint colored rober. She then jumped when she saw Sandor standing there and she clutched the robe closed around her chest. “Oh, Sandor!” She chuckled with relief. “Good, you’re here.”

“I brought your cup back,” he tried to escape to the stairs.

“Mr. Baelish said you had something for me?” She asked. “He said he needed it delivered today so you were going to hand it to me.”

He frowned and huffed. “I’ll bring it back up later.”

Sansa smiled. “Want more shit coffee?” her voice full of hope.

Margaery smacked the stool next to her. “Yeah, come sit down with us girls. Or do you wanna be a monster and hurt our feelings?”

Sandor was unsure on several things, but he was certain about one thing that morning; he didn’t like her.


	6. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gathers the courage to ask Sandor out. But he begins to question himself and why Sansa would ever date him when he meets her ex Willas.

“I can call a plumber,” Sansa huffed as she paced before the bathroom door. She fiddled with her hair, touching and stroking it as she peered inside. “When I ask you what I should do I didn’t mean you should-”

“Just shut up and let me work,” Sandor grunted, kneeling down and working under the sink.

The drain backed up and she scared awake by an overflowing sink. To her fortune, Sandor was out in his yard and he insisted he have a look over it, not allowing her to call anyone until he saw to everything first.

She stood before the door, watching him as he knelt down. She noticed how he tucked his jeans into his boots and wondered if it was something bikers did. In the back of her mind, she heard Margaery urging her forward, pushing her to ask Sandor the question she was preparing herself for all week.

Sandor grumbled and stood up, wiping his brow and pulling his drenched shirt away from his chest. The drain having sprayed him when he was undoing it. “Go about your business,” he said to her. “You won’t learn anything watching this like you did with the bed.”

Sansa screwed her mouth up tight. “Do you want anything to drink?” She asked, wanting to rip her hair out at the root. Just ask him! Stop being a coward!

“Yeah, sure,” he huffed, shuffling through his tool box. “Don’t forget the water is shut off.”

“Duh,” Sansa rolled her eyes then scolded herself again as she walked away. She went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out the lemonade. She poured two big glasses and when she returned the pitcher she saw the bottle of wine Margaery gave her. She frowned and shut the fridge. Margaery brought over a whole kit the day before. A bottle of expensive wine she stole from her parents, a package of imported cheeses, special ordered steaks. Anything she could get from her parent’s house that would go unnoticed. 

She had also brought a dress and something she called ‘the magic push-up bra’. The dress was beautiful, and Margaery said that it would “show off the goods you’ve been hiding.”

“Why am I friends with her?” Sansa thought to herself as she went back to the bathroom, glasses in hand. 

Sandor turned as she stepped in, and for a moment in the small space, Sansa felt her heart leap up into her throat. He was so big he could move her around the room with ease. Trap her in the corner and run his hand along her thigh and around her waist. 

She cleared her throat, jarring the thoughts from her mind. “Lemonade,” she burbled as he took the glass.

He took it and chugged it, downing half the glass in one go. “You like lemons,” he wiped at his chin.

Sansa shrugged, sipping her glass. “It’s healthy,” she grimaced at the words coming from her mouth.

Sandor avoided meeting her gaze. He tried to avoid her all week. Ever since the dizzy brunette friend of her’s gave him a stern talking to he was waiting on Sansa to invite him to dinner. He was still in disbelief and convinced himself enough that the brunette was kidding him.

“So!” Sansa set her glass down, “do you think you can finish this today?”

“Not sure,” he answered, sitting on the edge of the tub. “You may need to buy a few things so I can finish it.”

“Oh,” Sansa pouted. “That means...probably not until Tuesday.”

“Probably.”

Sansa huffed, feeling her hair. “And we can’t turn the water back on?” She asked.

“Not unless you want the water everywhere.”

Sansa held her tongue but stomped her foot. “I guess I’ll see if I can stay with Margaery.”

“You can use my shower.”

Sansa flinched. His shower? His place?

“My water is still on,” he continued, sounding a little hesitant now. “I mean...your little friend probably has it better off than me.”

“No,” Sansa gasped. “No I mean...I’d rather not stay at Margaery’s if I don’t have to.” She bit down on the tip of her tongue. “I would appreciate the offer.”

He shrugged.

She smiled, feeling her courage bubble up again. “Sandor-”

“Oh fuck,” he huffed.

She felt like she was turning green. “What?”

He stood up and stuck his head under the sink. “You smell that?”

Sansa looked around terrified, her heart pounding in her throat. “No?” Her eyes kept darting to and fro. 

Sandor cussed and snarled under the sink. “Do you have a wire hanger you could spare?”

“Yeah,” she set her cup down. “Hold on.”

He sighed in relief, he did smell something, but he recognized the tone she said his name with. He wasn’t sure why he reacted as strong as he did, it was knee-jerk. She came back, handing him the hanger. Her long hair brushing against his shoulder and arm. It smelled sweet and felt soft.

He took the hanger and bent it longwise, shoving it down the opened drain.

“What’s wrong?” Sansa asked, tugging her hair back and off her shoulder.

Sandor snarled and fought, shoving and twisting the hanger down into the drain. “Come...the fuck...on!” 

Sansa stepped back, standing in the doorway again. Her courage going flat like left out soda. 

“Trashcan,” Sandor snarled as a slurping, sloppy, slapping sound issued from the drain. “Trash can! Hurry!” He barked.

“Oh god, what is that?” Sansa squirmed as Sandor dropped something unspeakable into the trashcan she extended. A loud plop and squish echoing through the room, making them both squirm.

“Your problem,” Sandor heaved as he stood up.

“Fresh air?” Sansa whined as she held the can out at arm’s length and headed for the front door.

“Fresh air,” Sandor heaved and followed her out the door.

Sansa tossed the contents of the trashcan into the big on that sat on the curb. She grimaced and shivered, closing the heavy metal lid as fast as she could. “Nothing good ever comes out of a bathroom drain,” she leaned against the iron railing in front of her door

“I take it you’ve seen many a clogged drain in your life?”

Sansa chuckled. “Many a hairy man has washed in my family bath,” she pushed her hair from her face. “Sorry,” her laugh a little nervous, “I ruined your peaceful Saturday.”

He frowned down at her. “What makes you think that?”

She looked aside, cheeks blooming before him. “I promised you when I moved in I wouldn’t cause any issues.”

“What are you talking about?” He scoffed.

Sansa laughed, “oh nothing. Just...I keep seeming to have a ‘Honey-do list’ for you.” She regretted those words as soon as she said them.

“Get better coffee and I’ll forget all about it.”

“Uhm...and how about a steak dinner?” She felt her heart jump to her throat and flop down into her gut where it floundered and gasped for air like a hooked fish. 

He held his breath and ground his teeth. There it was. “You keep trying to thank me with food-”

“Not entirely a thank you,” Sansa corrected while her nerve was up. She looked up, her two perfect blue eyes capturing his one good gray eye. “I was wondering if...maybe-”

“Your little friend already yelled at me,” he growled, confessing and putting her out of her misery. “She threatened to ‘finish off what the lord started’ or something if I didn’t at least give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Sansa clapped her hands over her face. “Oh god! Margaery!”

“It’s alright,” he huffed, arms crossed against his chest. “Just tell me how you plan to cook those steaks.”

Her heart was starting to calm, but it was cautious. She wasn’t sure if he was accepting or denying her. “Uhm...Margaery was going to let me borrow her grill-”

“Have you ever cooked with a grill?”

She shook her head. “No, I was just-”

He scoffed. “I’ll cook the steaks then,” he snarled. “I don’t want you going and ruining a perfectly good slab of meat like you do your coffee.”

Her heart stopped and her mouth opened and broke into a smile. “Yeah,” she gasped as her heart returned to its proper place. “That’ll be fun!” She nodded and kept herself still despite how she wanted to bounce around. “And my coffee is just fine!” She scolded, trying to keep her excitement and nerves in check.

“When?” He asked.

“Uhm…,” she looked up at him. “Tonight or tomorrow?” She twitched her hair around her knuckles. “I’m free both nights.”

“I have an appointment later,” he growled. “So if you don’t mind it being a little late tonight.”

“Yes!” She cupped her hand over her mouth then laughed. “I’ll call Margaery to get the grill over and set up.”

“Put it down there in front of my door,” he pointed. “The ground is level.”

She nodded then gasped. “Oh...the water?” She asked.

“I’ll put the sink back in order. But I’m going to keep it off for now,” he headed back into the house.

“Uhm...so, you don’t mind if I use your shower then?”

“Oh right-” he huffed and shrugged. “It’s not like I have a door to lock you out of it.”

She giggled, watching his back as he went towards her bathroom. She pulled out her phone and called Margaery.

“I’m in a rush! Mum is pawning Willas off on me and now I’m rushing to make myself look less than a homeless lap dog and-”

“He said yes!” Sansa squealed.

“You finally did it?” Margaery gasped. “Did you finally ask the lunk?”

“Yeah, yeah I did,” Sansa felts dreamy.”He even offered to cook the steaks.”

Margaery clicked her tongue. “Good! He passed my first test.”

“Can you bring the grill then?”

“Seeing as I have to pick up my dumb brother I’ll steal Daddy’s grill for you,” Margaery cooed. “Ow! Fuck me!”

“Did you jam the mascara into your eye?” Sansa sighed, leaning against the house.

“Never mind,” she sniffed. “I’ll be over after I drop Willas off and I’ll stage set the entire house to ensure you get what you want.”

“I just wanted the date,” she bit at her thumb nail.

“No you don’t,” Margaery scoffed. “I know what you want. I know what you need. If this evening doesn’t end with at least some light,over the clothes, petting I’ll light his trousers on fire.”

Sansa giggled. “It’d be nice but I’m not expecting it. I just want to...try and open the door tonight.”

“Ha! Bash his head in is what I’d do. Caveman him. Ok, gotta run, see you soon.”

Sandor came out of the bathroom as she finished her conversation. “I have to go.” He tossed her the wrench he used. “I’ll be late.”

“To your appointment or for our date?” They both flinched at the words. “Dinner?” Sansa mewled out just in case she ruined it.

“Appointment,” Sandor corrected as he stood on the stairs. 

“Uhm…” she didn’t want to seem to eager, too clingy. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Around six or so,” he disappeared down the stairs and Sansa felt like kicking her heels.

She did it. She finally did it! All by herself! Asked out a boy and he even volunteered to cook for her. She did a quick clean up while she waited for Margaery to come with the grill and help her set up.

When Margaery came up, Sansa directed her down to where Sandor told her to put the grill. Once they removed the grill from her car and set it up Margaery was spying through his window.

“He isn’t home,” Sansa snapped her hands to her hips.

“I just wanna look at his place.”

Sansa frowned. “I have to take a shower at his place.”

Margaery's mouth opened up and she stared with excitement at her.

“My pipe backed up this morning,” she rubbed at her cheek. “So he turned the water for my apartment off. He offered it.”

“That’s kind of hot when you think about it.”

“Please stop right where you are,” Sansa held her hand up. “I don’t wanna hear your little fantasy right now.”

Margaery grimaced, “ugh fine.” She waved her hand. “Let’s go back up and get you ready.” She drove her car back up and walked into the kitchen ahead of Sansa with a box in her arms. She looked at the counter, seeing the two glasses with a tiny bit of lemonade in them.

“Seriously?” He shook one of the glasses at her. “You served him lemonade? Oh honey, let some cliches die.”

“What was I supposed to give him?”

Margaery looked fit to burst, “a blow-”

Sansa's eyes widened and she laughed trying to stop her. “Shut! It!”

Margaery bust out laughing, picking the box back up and carting it to the living room. From it, she brought out several lamps. She placed them strategically around the apartment. Two in the living room, one on the dining table, another on the kitchen table. She plugged them in and when she tapped the base they lit up then dimmed with each additional touch.

“In lieu of candles,” she smirked. “I stole these from home a week ago and no one has even batted a lash.” She reached back into the box and produced a stack of old records and behind them a record player.

“Why the record player?” Sansa asked.

“Nothing is more romantic than the sound of a record playing,” Margery cooed as she set it up and set a record inside. “He seems old fashioned as hell,so this should earn you some brownie points.” She clicked the player on and the soft, warm crackle of the record made Sansa realize the mood setting. She closed her eyes as the song played, something her mother and father used to play and dance to when they thought the children were asleep.

“Any of these from the stack will be good,” Margaery stood up and dusted off her front. “Al Green, though,” she sighed. “That’ll get it started.”

Sansa pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. “Sure,” she coughed.

“Now,” Margaery grabbed Sansa and pulled her over. She smooshed her face and turned her his way and that. “You should go shower, that way I have time to play with your hair.”

“My hair?” Sansa chuckled.

“I’m gonna make it look all...beachy,” she said with a soft nod. “Something that says ‘touch me, feel me’.”

“Oh,” Sansa blushed.

“Down there right?” Margaery was already heading down the stairs.

Sansa gave chase, finding her nosing around the living room. “Stop it! You’re being rude! He said I could use his shower and that’s all I’m gonna do.”

“I’m just gathering information,” Margaery said, holding a book in her hands. “Oh look at that, he reads Tolkien.”

Sansa tried to snatch the book away from her,but Margaery moved too fast. She was in the kitchen then. 

“I can’t watch this,” she grabbed up her basket full of bath supplies. “I’m going to get that shower.” She walked to the back, through Sandor’s room. She hesitated, his scent so strong here. She looked around. The walls were bare. Not much to look at. Just a great big bed and a small side table. 

She touched the sheets, then pressed to feel the firmness of the mattress. It seemed comfortable, maybe a bit old and worn in. She heard Margaery knock around and she jumped up and into the bathroom.

She looked around, there was a huge shower stall. The fixtures all looked new. The tile on the floor looked out of date. A sort of cat food salmon color. There wasn’t much like there was in her bathroom. She had too much supplies and things she felt crowded. Sandor’s place felt like he was just living off the bare essential. 

She stripped down, and as she looked at herself in the mirror she suddenly understood what Margaery was trying to say. 

She was naked in a man’s place.

He wasn’t there but she felt coy, her body a little hot. She bit her cheek and stepped into the shower.  
Sandor stands naked here, a dark thought shouted in her mind. 

She turned on the cold water.

Margaery had found herself disappointed with her information gathering. This Sandor barely had anything. His fridge was full of beer and ground beef. There was a hall closet with a coat and a baseball bat. His bedroom gave her even less to look at. It was bare bones.

“Boring,” she sang and opened his closet. She shuffled through a few clothes and then spotted it in the back. The big safe. She pushed his hanging clothes aside and looked it over. As she stepped closer she felt something under her foot. When she picked it up, she saw it was a bullet.

“Not boring,” she marvled.

 

Sandor sat in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. He promised during his last session with Elder Brothers he would make this appointment. She said he seemed to be fidgeting with it more. He was trying to distract himself with a magazine, but the first page her turned to screamed out at him: “10 HOT FIRST DATE IDEAS!” He shut it and set the magazine aside.

He couldn’t tell her no, could he? Why was it ok for him to agree? He knew it would all end badly. She would see the truth and that’d be it. He couldn’t take pity from her.

He looked up as the door opened, another man coming in. He turned looking out the door and speaking to someone.

“Call me when you’re done! I’ll be helping her until then.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll go to the bakery and relax afterward,” he turned and looked inside, smiling when he spotted Sandor. His eyes were soft brown, warm and kind looking things. 

“Good afternoon.” He walked up to the front desk, relying heavily on a cane.

Sandor was never sure when people spoke to him. He just grunted as a reply, nodding back to the man.

“Appointment?” The nurse asked, her tone much sweeter than when she talked to Sandor.

“Tyrell, ma’am.”

Sandor’s ears perked. Where did he know that name?

“Oh yes, Willas, just sign in here and we’ll get to you.”

“Thank you,” he came back and sat down across the way from Sandor. He stretched out his left leg before him.

He remembered now, looking at the man’s brown eyes. Tyrell was the name of that woman Sansa was friends with. The one with the scary smirk. 

He looked up towards Willas who was settling into his seat. This was the brother Sansa dated then. He swallowed, throat dry. He was a good looking man, tall and lean. Broad shoulders and strong looking arms. Narrow waist. This looked like the sort of man Sansa should be attracted to. The kind she belonged with. 

Of course, this should be the encounter he had today.

“I’ve thought I had met all of Dr. Rosewood’s patients. I’ve been here so much,” he smiled like he knew Sandor all his life. “I never forget a face.”

“Let me guess,” Sandor sneered. “You’d never forget a road rash of a mug like mine?”

Willas laughed, “oh, heavens no.” He leaned back. “I was going to say I’d never forget someone with eyes like yours. Both of them have their own beauty.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Not at all,” Willas was enjoying the joust with Sandor it seemed. Blocking Sandor’s snarls and teeth with warmth and smiles. 

“I’ve been coming here since I was a teen,” he continued. “Playing as boys do, I realize now I was a bit cocky,” he sighed.

“For me, it wasn’t my fault.”

“Even worse.” Willas folded his hands in his lap. “You can tell me if you don’t want to talk. It just helps me calm my nerves. And you looked quite petrified yourself.”

Petrified? Sandor scoffed at the word.

“I’ve been coming here for so long you’d think it would get easier. I know things aren’t all that bad, but some days I worry. I pray more than I care to admit.”

Sandor nodded, grunting again to answer him.

“I’m afraid I’ll lose it,” he touched his left leg, rubbing it a bit. “It feels heavier lately.” He reached over and fiddled with his cane. “And you?” He looked up at Sandor. 

“And me?”

“Do you mind if I ask why you’re here? Or am I getting too personal?” He laughed, shaking his head. “I forget sometimes I’m not always in a support group.”

“Just a fitting,” Sandor answered. He touched his right knee, squeezing a bit.

Willas gasped, “oh...listen to me here, complaining of my leg when you-”

“Mr. Clegane? We’re ready for you.”

Sandor stood up. “Keep talking,” he growled at Willas as he left.

He walked into the exam room, the nurse handing him one of the awful paper robes and telling him the doctor would knock when she came.

He sighed, shoulders slouching. He was a relief to get away from Willas, yet he was still bothering him at the back of his mind. Handsome and kind, seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders even if he walked with a cane. He at least had both his legs.

Why would Sansa break up with him? 

There must be something wrong with one of them. 

Sandor stripped down, placing his clothes on the hanger by the door. He slipped on the paper robe and looked down. First at the real leg, then at the fake.


	7. Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Sandor finally have their date. But both have some doubts.

Margaery looked at her phone and sniffed. “Willas must have went to that deli again,” she laid back on the sofa and closed her eyes.

“Do you need permission to leave?” Sansa murmured as she looked over the record sleeve.

“Mnh,” Margaery snuggled in, “I like this song a lot.”

Sansa looked over her shoulder at her. “Do you actually buy anything to furnish your house? Or do you just steal things from your parents and let them buy new things?”

“Mom and I have a deal,” she giggled. “You know how much she enjoys decorating.”

“So…” Sansa looked around at the dimmer lamps and record player. “Do I keep these? What about the grill?”

“I’m just your fairy godmother tonight. You can do whatever you want to do with my magic,” she rolled over so her back was facing Sansa. 

Sansa just sat there for a moment in confused silence, wondering if she was an accessory to a crime. She also had a clear picture in her head as to why Margaery wanted to be a lawyer.

“Willas is doing fine by the way.”

Sansa looked back at her. “What?”

Margaery sat back up, bracing herself on her elbows. “Willas is doing just fine.”

“I know he is,” she mumbled.

“He’s still doing that support group. Which, I mean, he’s good at it.”

“He was always good at talking,” Sansa tucked a loose wave behind her ear. The hairstyle Margaery gave her loose and bouncy, lots of waves and gentle curls. Sansa thought she looked like some romantic heroine from a Gothic novel.

A trilling sound came from Margaery’s chest and she plucked her phone back from her bra. “Speak of the devil,” she pushed herself upright. “He’s ready. Said he talked to a man at the doctor’s office who lost his leg. Said he was waiting to give him his card for the support group.”

“That’s Willas,” Sansa sighed.

Margaery stood up and stretched, her back popping. “You look amazing. He’ll be hard pressed not to keep his eyes off you. Hands too, if you’re lucky.”

Sansa blushed but didn’t argue with her. “Thanks for the help,” she smiled.

Margaery winked, petting Lady goodbye before she walked out the door.

Sansa turned back to looking over the records and listening to the music play. She had a dessert made and waiting, and she was prepped to make the salad once Sandor got the steaks on the grill. She felt her insides kick and jump when she thought of him. For the first time in a long time, she thought to herself how much she wanted someone. She wanted Sandor and her stomach tightened at the thought. The last time she felt that way it ended in horrible disaster.

Her thoughts cut short as her phone started ringing. It was Mr. Baelish. “Hello? Yes, sir?” She stood up and turned down the music. Her face tensed as she listened to him. “Oh...I wouldn’t know that, Mr. Baelish. He’s just my neighbor I-” her mouth opened and she sighed. “Yes. I understand. I know,” she paced before her couch. “Yes, I’ll see what I can do. Yes, I’ll see you Monday,” she hung up her phone and sat on the edge of the sofa. 

She looked to her window, hearing Sandor’s motorcycle roaring up towards the house and down to the front of his yard. She sighed, collecting herself again and went into the kitchen. She went through the list of things Margaery told her to do.

One: wait until he comes up to see if he wants to start cooking right away or if he wants to rest for a moment.

If he wants to rest, start with the beer. Sit on the sofa and play music, try and talk and start the conversation that’ll last through the evening. If he doesn’t wanna rest and just start the steaks, still start with the beer and chat with him at the grill. Make the salad while the steaks rest.

She tried to find something to do in the kitchen while she waited for him to come up the stairs. She played with the pepper grinder Margaery brought, at first she was unable to crank it and when she turned it over to look at the bottom she got chunks of pepper in her open mouth.

While Sansa and Margaery prepared the apartment and the food, Sandor was in his appointment. Afterwards, he went out to a clothing store and bought a new shirt as well as stop by the grocery store and buy some beer and a dozen donuts. He wasn’t quite sure what she liked, he knew lemons so he got several lemon-based donuts. Jelly and pound cake, one that had the slice baked on top. He wasn’t one for confectionary sweets, he didn’t care for them that much. If it made her happy it was fine.

When he got back home he saw the grill sitting right where he instructed. It was a nice grill too. The kind you only saw in the homes of professional chefs on Food Network. He was impressed. Maybe the girl had more money working for Baelish than he assumed. 

He went inside and put the donuts and beer up then went to his bathroom. There were signs that Sansa used it earlier. The shower was still wet, the towel on the floor damp and bearing her footprints. The mirror was clean too and she wiped out the sink.

He leaned on the counter and undid the buckles and straps on his prosthetic. For a moment, he hesitated. Touching the indentations and scars on his leg. He thought about Willas, handsome and kind. The kind of man Sansa looked like she belonged with. Even if his leg was lame, fuck, at least he was still whole. At least his face wasn’t gnarled and strange. Willas could provide Sansa with comfort and warmth, Sandor wasn’t even sure he could give Sansa anything worth her time.

He sighed, telling himself it was a bad day to be inside his head so much.

When he got into the shower he noticed she left a few things behind. A bottle of shower gel, a razor, and a washcloth folded and hung over the shower rack. 

He picked up the shower gel and sniffed it. The bottle said it was something frilly and fancy. Some blossom off the coast of Shangri-la or something. It smelled like the sea and clean towels, a hint of something fruity as well. It smelled like the master.

He turned the bottle over, seeing a long description on the back about the soap. How it was ‘hauntingly decadent” and “cunningly sensual”.

“Why the fuck does soap need adverbs?” He grumbled to himself, setting the bottle back on the shelf.

After a wash off he placed his prosthetic back on and changed. Putting on the new shirt he bought for himself. It was a black long sleeve shirt with a few snap buttons just under the collar. He hadn’t tried it on in store, just found something that he assumed was his size. It was a little tight, form fitting to him. The neckline was lower than he expected too, his thick chest hair exposed. He frowned, thinking how Sansa wouldn’t like a hairy creature like him.

He tied his hair back while it was still wet, and climbed the stairs. As he did he heard something clatter on the floor and Sansa cuss under her breath. 

When he reached the top of the stairs she was nowhere in sight. He walked closer to the counter and she sprang up from behind it. Her hair a wild mane of soft, free curls and waves. He was taken for a moment, he had only ever seen her with her hair up in a slicked back bun or a ponytail or braid. This was the first time he was seeing her with her down and styled. She looked like a siren, beckoning from the dangerous rocks.

“Oh!” She held a knife in her hand. “Oh!” she dropped it on the floor again. “Dammit,” she blushed and cupped her cheek. “S-sorry, I was putting dishes away.” She bit her lip and smiled.

“It’s fine,” he murmured.  
Sansa was trying to recall the list Margaery gave her, yet as she looked over Sandor she found it very hard to concentrate. Where had he been hiding that shirt? She pinched her thighs together and made herself concentrate.

“Do you feel like cooking yet?” She walked around the counter, revealing the dress she was wearing. Her long legs on full display for him. “I thought, maybe, if you didn’t wanna grill just yet we could have a beer or two and uhm...I have records,” she motioned to the setup Margaery did before she left.

“Yeah, sure,” he looked around the room, noticing the new weird lamps scattered about. “I have beer too,” Sandor said, setting the box on the counter along with the box of donuts.

Sansa giggled and took it. “I’ll put this in the fridge then.”

He walked over to the record player, going through the stack of records sitting beside it. In the kitchen, Sansa popped the tops on two beers. Margaery stole some fancy imported things from her father’s private reserve. She also took the tray of snacks from the fridge as well.

“You can pick whatever you want,” she said as she handed him a cold bottle.

Sandor’s eyes lingered over her for a moment. He'd seen her every day now since the end of summer. He knew how she looked, and yet he felt like he was looking at her for the first time. She set the tray on the table and curled up on the sofa, taking an apple slice that she pushed between her lips painted cherry red.

Since when did he notice lipstick?

He chose an album and started it, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from her.

They sat in silence.

Sansa picked at the label on her beer while Sandor leaned back and drank.

The music was nice, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the awkward silence.

“The beer is good,” Sandor broke the silence.

“Oh...yeah it is,” her chuckle a nervous one. “It tastes like uhm...coffee almost.”

“Shit coffee?” He chided.

Sansa laughed, inching closer. “I got some good coffee,” she replied. “In case we want some later.”

“For in the morning right?” Margaery’s voice invaded her head.

“For the donuts,” Sandor nodded back to the kitchen.

“What did you get,” Sansa turned her body towards him, tucking her legs up under herself, setting the beer on her thigh.

“Just a mix,” he muttered, feeling her eyes on him. He was trying hard not to stare at her. She was like the cherry and the whipped cream all at once. Red hair, lips, and dress. Pale creamy skin. It was a feast for the eyes and he was forcing himself not to indulge.

Sansa leaned her head onto her arm, her eyes following the line of his body. His shirt hugging him in all the right places. Riding up just enough she could see some skin between the top of his jeans and under his shirt. His chest hair exposed enough she could play with later if he let her get close enough.

“The grill is nice,” he cleared his throat.

“You can keep it then, I think?” She laughed. “I think Margaery stole it from her parents and she doesn’t want to haul it back.”

Sandor snorted. “What?”

Sansa shook her head. “Oh wow, that is an extremely long story you have no clue about!” She stretched her legs out as she relaxed. “Margaery steals from her parents, like, all the time,” she chuckled. “I mean, they’re amazingly rich so they just buy new stuff to replace it, so Margaery doesn’t have any moral quandaries about taking things from them.”

Sandor was smiling, a slight chuckle escaping. “I’ve been wanting to ask, but what is it with her?”

“That’s a jar of worms,” Sansa sighed. “She’s top of her class. Probably going to be valedictorian and everything. She’s honest. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had. As to why she acts the way she does…” she clicked her tongue, “I have no idea.”

“She’s in school to be a lawyer like you right?”

Sansa nodded.

“Oh dear god,” he laughed. 

“She has plans,” Sansa set her beer down and reached for some sliced cheese. She offered it up to him. “Try it,it tastes great with the beer.”

He considered eating from her hand, at the last moment though he took it with his fingers. He then stood up as he ate it. “Where are the steaks?”

“In the fridge,” Sansa fetched them from the fridge, revealing to him the big meaty slabs.

“Did Margaery steal a cow and butcher it herself?” Sandor asked as he took the plate from her.

“You know, I’m not sure,” Sansa chuckled as she followed him downstairs. “While the steaks rest I’ll start the salad.”

“You know about that?”

“Salads?” Sansa smirked as they walked towards the grill.

He smiled at her and set the steaks aside,looking over the grill to see how it started. “No, the resting thing.”

“I watch Food Network like anyone else,” Sansa set their beers down on the windowsill.  
Sansa ran the list through her head again.

Two: While the steaks are cooking continue banter and initiate close contact. While he’s at the grill he's cornered. He’s not going to allow anything to happen to the meat, so you’re free to inch in as close as you want. As for tips on how to grill and snuggle up close. Chat and laugh and be calm. 

Sansa took a chug of her beer and sauntered over to the grill as Sandor turned it on. He frowned at the flames inside but turned and felt a sudden wash of calm as Sansa came and stood beside him.

“I’ve never used a grill before,” she replied. “Mind if I watch?”

“Doesn’t bother me,” he growled. “Did you season or do anything to the steaks?”

“Margaery marinated, aside from that nothing.”

He nodded. “This won’t take long if you like them rare.”

“I do,” Sansa inched in, her hand brushing against his hip.

Sandor flinched, but he was grateful she was standing on his left. “You said you had a salad?”

“Just gotta chop and toss,” she replied. She was close enough she could smell his soap. “Also have great big potatoes in the oven. Got some very nice wine too,” she reached up, her fingers brushing against his jaw and his cheek as she tucked a dark lock behind his ear. “Donuts for dessert,” she smiled.  
The tip of his ear turned bright red. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good steak. I’ve been eating awfully light since I moved. Too busy to cook anything so nice.”

“A treat for us both,” he turned down the flames on the grill and slapped the meat down.

Sansa handed him his beer and he took it, allowing his fingers to linger on hers. It was a date, after all, she wouldn’t be angry for a touch here or there. She smelled good, her skin felt good, she looked so beautiful. 

Had he told her that? Had he said anything at all about how amazing she looked and how she took his breath away?

“How rare do you enjoy your meat?” He asked.

Sansa glanced back up at him. “Oh uhm...mooing,” she giggled.

“Mooing,” he nodded and looked back to the grill.

Sansa inched in even closer pretending to watch the meat, but she was pressing close to feel his body against hers. His arm moved behind them to allow her room, and while he struggled with where to put his hand, he finally rested it against the small of her back.

Sansa’s lips parted at the touch and she tucked away the smile that wanted to blossom across her face.

“Go on up and start the salad,” Sandor replied, making her stomach drop a little bit. “These will be done in no time.”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” she went to move away, his hand still on her back. “Anything you don’t want on yours?”

“Onion,” he looked at her. “Gives me heartburn.”

“Not much of a fan either,” she stepped away, his hand moving as she walked inside.

 

When Sandor came up the stairs with the steaks, Sansa was just plating their salads and setting them on the table. The lights were off, save for the strange new ones that he noticed earlier. They were dim, glowing about as bright as a candle would if they were lit. It was a surprise to him that she didn’t have any candles.

He set the steaks on the counter and reached down to pet Lady who was sitting in wait.

“What sort of dressing do you like?” Sansa asked as she reached into the fridge.

“Yours-ah,” he shook his head, “whatever you pick is fine.”

He walked towards the record player as Sansa was setting down the bottle and placing out silverware. He switched the record,playing something else. The song low and slow, something breathy and warm. He came towards Sansa and took her hand.

“Is something-” she stopped as he took her other hand and guided her,moving in a way that at first she didn’t understand what he was doing. When he hand came to rest at her waist she knew then. 

He was asking her to dance.

She was breathless for a moment, forgetting how to move her body at all. He was touching her, leading her. Moving her to the slow music. She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. His gray eye focused upon her.

She smiled, putting her arms around his neck and pressing close to him. “I didn’t take you as a dancer,” she murmured as she looked up at him. The red from the tip of his ear bleeding down across his cheeks and up the bridge of his nose.

“Not usually,” he grumbled as he spun her to the swell of the music. “I just...a girl looking like you do…” He wasn’t sure how to get his words out right.

Sansa understood him, though, even if he couldn’t get it out. She was starting to rise up on tiptoes, kissing his jaw, maybe the corner of his lips. She glanced over his shoulder and gasped. 

“Lady!”

Sandor spun around, watching as Lady grabbed onto one of the steaks and ran away with it.

Sansa stood there stunned for a moment, her hand cupped over her mouth. Sandor stared down at her, unsure how to act.

They both started laughing hard. Tears in Sansa’s eyes as she held onto her sides and leaned into him, his arms wrapping around her.

“Oh god! Oh...oh I am so sorry!” Sansa coughed as she tried to catch her breath, her hand on his side. “She’s never that bad!”

“Those steaks are big enough,” he was wiping the tears from his own eyes. “We can share one.”

“Oh!” Sansa shook her head. “Oh, that’s so bad!” She looked up at him, both still convulsing with laughter. His hand touched her cheek, her fingers found bare skin between his shirt and pants. Their laughter was quiet for a moment and the record crackled as tracks switched.

“We should eat before she comes back for seconds,” Sandor swallowed.

“Yeah-yes!” Sansa stepped away and went back to the kitchen. “I’ll get the potatoes out then.”

Sandor took a knife and cut the steak in half,laying one on her plate and then the other on his as she brought out the steaming potatoes, her hands in oven mitts.

“I can’t believe she did that!” Sansa huffed as she slapped the oven mitts onto the counter. “She’s not done something like that since she was a puppy.” She moved her hair out of her face.

“She was making sure we didn’t overeat,” Sandor smiled.

She returned the smile and sat down. “As long as he intentions are good.” 

Things were silent again as they prepped their salad and baked potatoes and began eating. Under the table, in the small space, they tried to keep their legs tucked under. Every so often, though, they touched, bumped. Sansa realized how close he was and wondered if a game of footsie was over the line.

“This is a good steak,” Sandor said. 

She giggled, “she knows a good hunk of meat when she sees one.” She moved with caution, sliding her foot up his leg to drive the point home.

He yanked his leg back, realizing she was touching his prosthetic. “Yes, well…” he shrugged.

She tucked her feet back in, she tried at least. She then jumped up and hit her knee, rattling the table. “Ow!”

He stood to assist her. “Are you-”

“I forgot the wine!” She whimpered, holding her knee. 

He scoffed and gave her a smile. “It’s all right, just save it for...later. Make sangrias next time.”

Her heart threatened popping out her chest. Next time? Did he want a 'next-time'? Was everything going well?

“If you’re sure,” she slid back into her seat and continued to finish her plate.

They were silent again until Sansa finished her plate. She moved to take their empty dishes but he snatched them away. “I’ll do them.”

“No, no, it’s fine I can-” she watched as he walked away from her, heading to the sink. “Hey!” She stopped herself from banging her knee again and she chased him into the kitchen. “This was all...my idea,” she huffed as she stood beside him at the sink, attempting to push him out of place but losing.

“You’re my date! I can do the dishes,” she pushed on his side. "I don't even have hot water! JUst what's in the jug!"

“Just a handful,” he replied as he worked.

Sansa sighed and conceded, “I’ll just...make the coffee then,” she said and moved away, missing the smile that blossomed on Sandor’s face.

She approached him with the coffee carafe and nudged him. “I need water, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir,” he growled. “And you’ll need to pay the toll.”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Oh yeah? And why do I need to pay a toll at my own sink?”

“Rules,” he set a dish to dry.

“What’s the toll then?” 

His hand was on her face again, damp and cool from the water, his lips touching hers for a too brief moment before he pulled away and took the carafe away and filled it. Placing it back into her hands.

“Toll paid.”

“No…” Sansa murmured as she tried to gain her balance back.

“Make the fucking coffee,” he chuckled, his insides lurching and threatening to riot after that act of defiance. 

She did, with her hands shaking as she poured the water in the back. When she licked her lips she could taste him almost. A slight something that wasn’t the meal. She hadn’t expected him to make the first move like that, she hadn’t really expected a kiss at all.

“I like that brand, don’t fuck it up.”

“Hey now,” she scoffed as she spun around and looked up at him. He was closer than she expected. “You...you shouldn’t be so picky.” She reached up,cupping his face. Her cool fingers against his burnt and melted skin made his heart stop beating.

“You should learn to be pickier.”

“I like my tastes, and I have my reasons for liking them,” she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Pressing her lips and body against him, her fingers slipping back and into his hair. His hands wrapped around her waist and held her close.

“Mm,” Sansa moaned as she pulled back. She giggled and met his gaze, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a...for a long time.”

He scoffed, “you’re a bad liar for a wannabe lawyer.”

She looped her arms around his neck. “You just don’t like to hear the truth.”

“The truth is all I want to hear,” he growled then glanced beside them, seeing Lady looking up at them with an opened mouth grin. “There she is.”

Sansa scowled, “bad girl Lady! Bad!”

Lady wagged her tail.

“She looks awful worried,” he reached around Sansa and began fixing his cup of coffee.

They took the coffee and donuts into the living room. They laid out on the sofa, talking sometimes and being silent when they listened to the music. Sansa was able to worm her way in close to him and cuddle up into his side like Lady did. They changed records a couple of times, their position on the sofa changing, but they weren’t afraid of being close.

Sandor set down his empty mug. “It’s getting late, I should probably go.”

Sansa didn’t want him to go. “You can stay, I’ll make more-”

“It’s late,” he growled. “And I’m afraid of staying longer.”

She caught the gist of what he was sayin and she put her hands over his. “I’m not ready for the day to be over.”

He held her hand back, kissing her palm then kissed her again, pressing her back into the sofa and bearing down on top of her, kissing her lips and jaw, her neck. He then pulled away again.  
“It’s late, little bird.”

She was catching her breath, almost not catching his nickname. “Little bird?”

He was standing, taking the mugs to the kitchen. “Thank you for tonight.”

She pouted, holding a pillow in place of him. “It was for me just as much as it was for you.” She looked up at him and stood to catch him. 

He caught her first, grabbing her hand. “It’ll be my treat...next time.”

He said it again. “Of course,” she swallowed and managed to smile. She reached up and wiped the red lipstick on his face. “Hopefully, someone won’t eat half our dinner again.”

Sandor cupped her cheek, wanting to stay and finish the night with her. He had to make himself leave, though, he wasn’t ready for what staying would bring. “Good night.”

“Will you be around in the morning?” Sansa was eager to keep him, to make him stay, or find a way to see him again fast. “We can finish those donuts.”

“Since you didn’t fuck up this coffee, I’ll see.” 

Sansa kissed him, holding onto the sides of his shirt. It felt so good to kiss and grab and hold. Then have all those things happen back. She pulled herself away and smiled, breathless again. “Just come up, whenever.” She released him and watched him disappear back down the stairs.

She bit her lip,hoping she didn’t come off as too eager. Perhaps it was good he was the behaved one. If she got her way she could’ve gone too far. She felt herself blush, her body going warm all over as the thought resurfaced. Perhaps not having the wine was a good idea. A little inhibition gone and she could have mounted him and kept him all night.

She smiled, though, happy with the night and anxious for the morning to come so she could kiss him again.


	8. Take Care

He woke with a start, sitting up in his bed and drenched in a cold sweat that dripped down his face and neck. He glanced around his room, listening for the screaming, watching for the walls to crumble into black ash. He rose out of bed, hopping on one leg for a and feeling around for a moment, making sure everything was real. Nothing was on fire.

The nightmares were always so much more real. He could taste the ash still on his tongue, feel the singe of the embers on his face. He sat back down on the edge of his bed and held his head in his hands as he tried to reclaim a breath that didn’t taste or feel like smoke. He trembled, voice choking as he tried to keep the tears back.

He heard water rushing. He rushed out of his room, peering into the kitchen where he saw the master standing with her back to him at the sink.

That’s right, he remembered, her water is still off.

The taste of smoke and charcoal changed, instead, he tasted lipstick and lemons. He touched his lips, the kiss they shared now more real than his nightmare. His nightmares made him forget the evening he had. The promise he made to join her for breakfast. That meant she had snuck down to get water for coffee.

She turned and Sandor ducked back into his room, nearly tripping and falling over himself, literally. He left his prosthetic laying on the floor before his bed. He landed with a thud on his bed and quickly scrambled to get his leg on.

“Sandor?” Her voice rang out.

Of course, she heard a fall like that, he could almost kick himself.

“You awake?” He chirped with a hushed voice in case he wasn’t. 

He pulled on his pants and then shoved on slippers to hide his leg. “What?” He grumbled as if her voice was the reason he woke up. He opened his door and saw her standing there, a carafe full of water in hand.

Her cheeks bloomed bright when he answered his door. Her mind swirling with the memories of the night before and all the lascivious dreams that haunted her sleep. She swallowed, her throat almost dry in an instant. “Good morning,” she wondered if it would be too much of her to kiss him good morning. If she had, to be honest, she wanted to wake him up with a kiss.

“Morning,” he grumbled, looking down at her.

“Uhm,” she looked aside and licked her lips. “Sorry, I was just getting-”

“Your water isn’t on,” he finished. “I’ll fix that today.”

“Yes! And...thank you,” she fidgeted. 

Sandor noticed she was wearing just a long t-shirt. Her legs exposed more than last night. An accident, maybe, he thought to himself. She probably didn’t intend to get caught. If not, she’s not playing fair.

“I’ll just go back up then,” she pointed to the stairs. “And get breakfast ready...I mean, if you still want-”

“I still want,” he growled for her. 

Tingle, Sansa thought as her smile became tight from trying to suppress enough feelings to kill a cow. “Ah-alright then,” she caught her breath and forced herself to move.

Sandor smirked to himself, his head turning as his phone began ringing. He answered, growing irritated at the number he saw. “What is it Baelish? It’s early and I have plans elsewhere.”

“Just a friendly call, I swear,” Baelish purred into the other end. “Do you have the files I asked for? The backups?”

“I told you, I’ll get them to you. I’m not sending her with evidence again. She’s just an intern.” He looked into his closet, glancing at the safe.

“It’s her job,” Baelish insisted. “I told her this. She’s accepted it. Did she not mention it to you?”

Sandor flinched. “Mention?”

“I called her and told her to get it from you.”

“That’s none of her business!” Sandor snapped, his blood boiling now.

“It was her case,” Baelish replied. “I think she has a right to know what is going on don’t you?”

Sandor’s jaw was tight and he had to take a deep breath. “Have you even told her?”

“Once I have what I need, I will. Right now everything I have is circumstantial.”

“You’re a bastard,” he snarled as he hung up the phone. He dragged his hand down his face and gripped onto the counter, trying to calm himself down before he went up to see Sansa. Her footsteps above him were light and soft, like the first raindrops before a storm.

He came up the stairs, Lady laying with her head tucked under a blanket. He smiled, Sansa must have scolded her for eating the steak.

Sansa was playing the record from the night before and was singing along in the kitchen. Her voice a welcoming sound. He heard the coffee burbling away, another welcome sound. He came up behind her as she was setting out the donuts, she had slipped on shorts.

A shame, he thought.

She turned and smiled up at him, their bodies extremely close. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He shook his head. “As long as I get to sleep, I don’t mind waking up.”

Sansa tilted her head slightly, her hair falling off her shoulder. It still held the soft mermaid waves from the night before, even softer and more touchable looking. “Do you not sleep well?”

Sandor shook his head. “Not enough,”

“You may wanna lay off the coffee then,” Sansa moved to the coffee pot. “I’ll just pour this out then,” she reached for the carafe. 

Sandor grabbed her wrist, pulling it up. “Pour that out and you’re as good as dead.”

“Then you’ll need to pay the toll to get some,” her voice cracked, nervous he wouldn’t fall for the same bait that she did.

“I thought this was a free breakfast,” He inched in closer, pinning her back against the fridge.

“Free to an extent,” Sansa swallowed and lifted her chin as he bared down.

Her phone started ringing and she groaned, “I’m sorry. Excuse me,” she slid out from under him, planting her palm against his chest as she stepped around.

A snarl came up in his throat as she reached for her cellphone. “If it’s Baelish tell him he can fuck off.”

She hissed, pushing her finger against her pursed lips as she answered. “Yes, hello...yes sir I-” She looked up at Sandor and then back down towards the table top. “I’ll do it if I have to,” she mumbled, fidgeting. “Yes sir,” she nodded, her eyes meeting Sandor’s.

“Tell him to rot in hell,” Sandor whispered.

She raised her hand, eyes concerned. “I understand. Yes. I’ll see you soon then,” she sighed and hung up the phone,pushing her hair out of her face as she suddenly went from warm and joyful to downcast and dejected. 

“That was...well you know who that was,” she tried to chuckle to make it seem ok. “Mr. Baelish has an emergency meeting today and he asked if I would come in to help.”

“You can say no,” Sandor growled.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I don’t even have to be in until one.”

Sandor frowned, he didn’t believe her cavalier attitude. 

“He said um…” she wasn’t quite sure how to bring it up. “He said you had something you were supposed to give me?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t feel right about it.”

“It’s fine!” Sansa walked back towards him. “It's my job...I mean, this makes it easier on you right?”

“Easier on me,” he snarled with an eye roll.

Sansa put her hand on his arm, “you don’t have to pay a toll on the coffee,” she cooed.

He looked down at her, her big blue eyes melting away at him. She was somehow even more beautiful than last night. “You don’t owe Baelish shit,” he growled as he picked her up, setting her on the counter and kissed her.

Sansa moaned against his lips, kissing him back happily as she wrapped her arms around him and tangled her fingers in his long hair. He bit her bottom lip, something she was sure a week ago that she hated, but now she wanted him to bite her everywhere. His lips trailed down her jaw and neck and her legs curled around his hips.

She gasped as his hands touched her thighs, running up along them as he nibbled at her throat. She wasn’t sure the last time someone kissed her like this, let alone felt so excited. “Sandor,” she moaned into his melted ear. Her lips brushing against the burnt skin.

He chuckled, a dark rasp of a sound. He kissed her on her lips again, nipping her lip and tugging before releasing. “That should pay me for the whole pot.”

Sansa swallowed, the words to beg for more on the tip of her tongue. “Fuck the coffee,” she blurted in a haze.

“Much too hot for such an act,” he teased as he poured a cup.

Sansa frowned, regaining herself. “Not what I meant,” she took a swing at him and he dodged. First, she was jealous of her own dog, now she was jealous of a damn cup of coffee. Despite how he acted, he was a much better kisser than she could have ever hoped for. She needed a moment to gather herself from the puddle she felt she melted into.

She slipped off the counter when she was sure her knees wouldn’t buckle. “Is it alright if I use your shower again?” She asked.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes following her as she went into the living room and went through her bag. She pulled out a file and rifled through it. 

“You’ll get that fixed for me right?” She turned smiled at him, tucking the file back away. “I’ll pay you back,” she pinched her knees together.

Sandor smirked as he walked out of the kitchen, “oh, so I’ve been doing all these favors for free have I? Maybe I should start charging for keeping an eye on your thief of a dog.” He sat down on the sofa. “I think I’m owed some back pay if that’s the case.”

Sansa eased onto the sofa beside him, curling herself into his side. “I’m afraid this is starting to sound like the entrance to a porno,” she laughed.

Sandor scoffed, “I’m going to blame the brunette for that.”

Sansa stretched her legs across his lap and he flinched, his coffee almost sloshing onto her. He set the mug aside and watched her for any sort of reaction. All she did was make herself comfortable.

“Sorry,” she mewled, thinking she did something wrong.

He relaxed again and he put his hand on her leg. “No it was...nothing,” he waved it off.

Sansa watched him, her eyes trailing down his jaw and his neck, his broad shoulders, and chest. “I have one more small favor,” she chirpped.

“It’ll cost you whatever it is,” he sniffed.

“Could you walk Lady for me?” She asked. “I was going to do it after breakfast but now…” she huffed. “Stupid work.”

“I’ll walk her,” he agreed. “If only to make her work off that steak.”

“Sorry, I feel like I’m monopolizing you,” Sansa tucked her hair away, not used to it being styled or curled so much. To her, it still felt like a wild lion’s mane. “I feel like I’m taking advantage.”

“Is that what the date was?” Sandor asked. “Something to rid you of guilt?”

“No!” Sansa yelped, not catching his barbs. “I really like you! That’s why I feel so bad! Because I like you and I want you all-” she caught on too late. Her face bloomed bright red and she grabbed a pillow to hide her face. “Now I sound crazy!”

Sandor was laughing too hard, both from her reaction and how ridiculous it felt to have a beautiful woman confess to him.

“You’re different,” Sansa continued to mumble into the pillow, her voice muffled. “You’re all dark and broody and...and just oh so...different.” She glanced up from the pillow as his laughter quieted. “I feel like an adult with you, not a girl, not a presence,” she squeezed hard onto the pillow, feeling her chest tighten, “I feel like a woman. I like it,” she glanced up at him, meeting his eyes with a serious stare. “There,” she huffed. “I’ve embarrassed myself. I’ve made myself sound like some...obsessed little girl.”

“You can embarrass yourself more,” he growled. 

 

She hid her face again and shook it. “No, I can’t!” Well, she really could but she wasn’t yet ready to reveal her even darker thoughts.

His hand trailed up her leg, his fingers warm and hard. “No one has ever confessed to me before,” he replied. “And I have been called worse things than ‘different’.”  
Sansa felt like she needed to breathe into a paper bag. “It’s a good thing for me,” she wanted to burrow deeper into the pillow. “You’re a good thing for me,” she admitted.

He thought of Willas. How the hell could he be better for her than a man like him? Willas was much more handsome, much kinder and gentle. Willas was like a mirror that showed Sandor all the things he lacked and could have been in life. Someone strong and helpful and giving to a fault. It was so strange to hear Sansa tell him that he was the better option. 

“You’re sexy,” Sansa blurted. 

“What?” Sandor laughed, snapped from his thoughts.

Sansa bit the inside of her cheek hard. “The first thought I had about you...other than thinking you were a mercenary, was that I wanted to climb you.”

Sandor snorted, covering his mouth as he tried to hold back a guffaw. 

“I’m done,” she kicked her legs off him and planted her feet firmly on the floor and stood up. “I’m going to go shower now that you’ve had a good laugh!”

He grabbed her hand. “Hey,” he growled.

She turned and looked down at him, her cheeks splotched and speckled with red and pink. She squeezed his fingers. “I mean it,” she mumbled.

“You don’t have to,” he pulled her back down onto the sofa. “You could lie to me and I would eat every word you fed to me.”

“I wouldn’t-!” She huffed and collected herself. “I could never hurt anyone like that.”

“You’re a better person than most,” he cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing against her soft lips. “You sure you want to be a lawyer?”

Sansa giggled and she held his wrist, opening her mouth and taking his thumb. She licked it, and Sandor’s heart exploded in his chest. She pulled him closer, taking his thumb into her mouth and suckling it, nipping it gently before she released him. Her heart hammering so hard. 

“Fuck,” Sandor pant as he pulled her in towards him.

Sansa caught him, pressing her hand against his cheek. “I overstepped,” she pant. “I really should get ready,” she slipped away from the sofa and stood up. Her nipples erect through her shirt. 

“You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish, little bird,” he snarled, wiping his hair away from his face.  
Sansa giggled and stuck her tongue out. “Maybe I’ll finish it,” she replied as she walked around the sofa. “The rest is up to you,” she trailed her fingers along the back of his neck as she walked to her room.

She closed the door and braced herself against the cold wood. She fanned herself and forced herself to calm down. Any more and she knew for a fact she would make a bigger fool of herself. She quickly gathered her things. “Just get a cold shower and stop being such a slut,” she snapped at herself in her vanity mirror. “You’re not as good at it as Margaery, you don’t have half the guts!”

She peeked out her door to see if he was still out there. She walked out, clutching her things for the shower. He wasn’t in the living room, and he wasn’t in the kitchen. She swallowed and made her way to the stairs. He was coming up as she was going down. He put on a shirt and was carrying his toolbox in one hand and a manila envelope in another.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t think this should be your job, but this is what Baelish wanted,” he grumbled. “I’ll lay it in the kitchen for you.”

“Oh, yes,” Sansa gasped. “Thank you.”

He hesitated then spoke up as she was moving around him. “If you get done with Baelish soon enough,” he started, “and the weather is forgiving, I’ll take you for a ride.”  
“Really?” Sansa gasped.

“You’d enjoy the scenery at dusk,” he said as he walked passed her. 

“I’ll try and get back as quickly as I can,” she grabbed him and kissed his cheek. “Promise.” She could have floated the rest of the way down the stairs. He asked her out! She couldn’t wait to gush everything to Margaery if she was at the office too.

 

She stood in the shower, letting the cold water cascade over her she let out a loud sigh. She touched her skin. Porcelain, it had always been called from when she was very small. Willas told her once she reminded him of an ivory statue he had once seen. She liked that much more than porcelain, it sounded less fragile. She wondered what Sandor thought, what did he think of her skin, her body. Her hands remained down her chest, cupping her hips.

She hadn’t meant to confess to him, not like that anyways. All the words were resting on the tip of her tongue and when provoked they became knocked loose and tumbled out without much in the way. She meant every word, she meant much more. That was probably what scared her so much about Sandor. His appearance and all his posturing and snarling were the things she could get used to, they were things she had gotten used to all her life with her father and his mates and her brothers and on and on. What scared her about Sandor was all the promise and how easily that could go away. 

Sandor reminded her of a dog she had once seen in the shelter, cornered in its cage, snarling and angry, but only because it was hurt and frightened. It didn’t know a kind hand from a cruel one, all he could do was protect himself with his distrust and anger.

He said that he would take any lie Sansa gave him and it hurt. She didn’t want to lie to him, she wanted to tell him she would only care for him. She wanted to make him feel as comforted and warm in her presence as he made her feel. He took care of her and Lady from the moment she moved into that apartment all those months ago when summer was easing to an end. 

She quickly rinsed off the soap and rushed from the shower, tearing off the shower cap as she dashed up the stairs with Sandor’s towel wrapped around herself. She spied on Sandor in her bathroom and then slipped into her room where she threw on the outfit she wore Friday.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said as she poked her head into the bathroom. “Help yourself to anything in my kitchen.”

“Do you have a ride?” Sandor grunted as he sat up.

“I’m just going to walk,” she replied. “It isn’t too far from here,” she smiled as he stood, coming towards her. “It’ll be nice to ride you when I get back,” her face screwed up at her Freudian slip. “Ride. With. You,” she spit out carefully.

Sandor smirked and nodded. “I suppose. Tell Baelish ‘fuck you’ for me.”

“I’ll be sure to pass the note,” she hiked her bag up on her shoulder, walking with Sandor to the door. 

“Be careful,” he growled, opening the door.

Sansa chuckled, “I will don’t worry so much about me.”

“I know,” he growled as he dipped down, kissing her neck and making her shudder. “You’re made of steel.” 

 

Sansa hurried into the office, fixing her blazer as she stepped into Baelish’s office. “I’m here, sir,” she caught her breath.

“Sansa, good,” he hung up his phone and threw a stack of files at her. “This way,” he said, leading her out of the office.

“What’s going on?” Sansa asked with a hushed voice. As far as she could tell they were the only ones in the office. She didn’t see Margaery’s or Tyrion’s cars.

“Something has come up from an old case,” he answered. “I’m keeping it quiet for now.”

“Then...why bring me in?” Samsa asked as they walked into the meeting room. She laid the stack of files down on the table and took a seat.

“I need your keen observation,” Baelish replied as he stood behind her chair. “Did you bring the file I asked you for?”

“Yes,” she reached into her bag then froze. “Oh...oh no,” she gasped.

“Something wrong?”

“I...I could have sworn I had it,” she shuffled through her bag and then looked up, thinking hard for a long moment. Sansa stood up. “I must have left it on the counter back home,” she moved to the door. “I’ll go get it then be right back,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Baelish!”

He waved to her, “it’s alright dear. I’ll do the busy work, we need that file.” He pulled out his phone, dialing something as she dashed from the room.

Sansa dialed Sandor’s number as she raced down the street. Maybe he could meet her halfway if he hadn’t taken Lady on her walk yet. After a few rings, she realized he wasn’t near his phone at all. She huffed and tucked her phone back into her pocket.

 

Sandor tested the sink in Sansa’s bathroom, it sputtered and coughed then water began flowing freely from it. The drain clearing quickly. 

Lady looked up from over the rim of the tub and watched him, her tail wagging as he smiled at his own handy work. “I’ll clean up girl,” he rubbed her ears, “then we can go for that walk.”

Lady’s eyes lit up and she jumped from the tub, understanding the word and preparing herself to go outside. Sandor followed her to the kitchen, checking the sink there to make sure the water in it worked too. 

The envelope he handed her was still on the counter. He frowned and shook his head. “I’ll deliver it like I should have,” he said to Lady who was waiting by the door. 

Sandor changed clothes then returned back upstairs, tucking the envelope into his pocket. He hooked Lady’s leash and she all but dragged him out the door. She was stronger than she looked, he wondered how Sansa was able to handle her by herself.

Lady trotted ahead of Sandor, happy to be outside. She stopped often to sniff and snort at the new route. Sansa mentioned she got Lady as a puppy and raised her and trained her all by herself. Lady was with Sansa through everything, her constant companion, and most loyal friend.

He wondered how Lady took to Willas. She took to him easily enough, 'puppy love' Sansa called it. Did she fawn over Willas as well? Did she sniff at his heels and leap into his arms? He didn’t need to question the first boyfriend. The one who hurt her and taken her for granted. He was certain Lady hated that whimpering welp.

Lady stopped suddenly, her ears perking up and her eyes going distant as she stared at something Sandor could never see with his limited sight. Lady growled and snarled, hunching low, her fur standing on end all the way down her back, her ears lowering and going flat against her head.

“What is it, girl?” Sandor snarled, trusting her instinct.

Lady snarled and lunged forward, pulling her with him as a big red car zoomed passed them. She roared and snarled, trying to chase after the car but held back by Sandor. 

It was the same car, Sandor was certain. Lady’s behavior at just a car was enough to make him believe.

He pet Lady, rewarding her. “Let's go find the master, alright?”

Lady keened as the car vanished and she tugged on the leash, urging him forward. They cut through the park and taking the shortcut to downtown. He came to the crosswalk and saw Sansa rushing up the street across from him.

Lady barked, tugging Sandor into the street and he pulled her back as cars passed by.

Sansa pressed the button on the crosswalk and was looking at her phone, answering a call from Baelish.

The light turned red, but there were no more cars. Lady barked again and Sansa raised her eyes, meeting Sandor’s. She then turned her head, hearing the sound of a car revving and speeding closer towards them. She was in the middle of the road as the black car crested the hill.

Everything after that was a blur. So fast and so sudden Sandor couldn’t recall anything until he heard Sansa screaming. Lady was barking and snarling, remaining on the other side of the road where he left her.

He reached up, covering Sansa’s mouth and urging her to be quiet before she took him into her arms and held onto him so fast.

“You leg! Oh my god Sandor your leg!”

He looked down, seeing his pants leg was a limp and empty, his shoe and part of his prosthetic in the middle of the road. He reached up and cupped Sansa’s cheek. “I’m not hurt, it’s fine. It didn’t hit me.”

“Your leg!” 

“It wasn’t real!” He finally barked, holding her face firmly between his cupped hands. “Are you alright?”

Her hand touched his. Her body bruised and scratched, but the worst that happened to her was the shock. She gulped down breaths and sniffled, trying to steady herself, thinking Sandor got hurt saving her.

“Your leg…” she whimpered, her other hand gripping hard onto his shirt. 

“Fake,” he replied. “I have another one in my closet.”

She looked up at him as tears fell down her face. “Another…” she still wasn’t registering.

“Are you hurt?” He insisted. 

A scared laugh escaped her lips and she trembled under his grip. “Am I hurt?” She laughed.

“Yes,” he growled. 

Her phone was ringing in her hand, he saw Baelish’s name light up on the now cracked screen. He took it and answered it. “I’m taking her home?”

“What’s going on? Clegane?”

“I’m not sure how, but I have a feeling you’re somehow responsible for this mess,” he snarled into the phone. “You’ve made someone mad, or you’ve manipulated some poor soul into this, but I am not letting her near you today.”

“Clegane what is going on?” He hung up on him and he went through Sansa’s phone, finding Margaery’s number.

She answered almost immediately. “How as it? What happened?”

“We’re at the crosswalk before your office,” he snarled. “Someone nearly ran her over. I need you to come get us.” 

“Fuck,” Margaery gasped and he heard her running about. “I’m on my way! Don’t get off that phone- Willas!”

“Hello?”

“Someone tried to run Sansa down,” he growled to him.

“Don’t worry, we’re on our way. Do you need an ambulance?” Willas asked calmly.

“No, she’s just in shock,” Sandor answered. “She won’t answer me if she’s hurt.”

“What about you?” Willas asked. He could hear Margaery cussing and shouting at cars that were in their way on the road.

Lady was beside him now, sitting by Sansa and licking her cheek and nuzzling to her temple.

“Sandor, are you hurt?” Willas insisted.

“No,” he swallowed. “My leg though took the hit. That's why I need your help.”

“We’re almost there, just try and get her calm.”

Sandor turned and looked at Sansa who was still trying to wrap her head around everything. She looked at him and her lips parted. “I’m so sorry!” She whispered.

“No, no,” he shook his head. “Don’t you apologize to me, little bird. Don’t you dare apologize.”

“We can’t go for a ride,” she whimpered. “I got you hurt,” she butted her forehead against his chest. “You can’t-” she sniveled, gripping onto him.

“Pull yourself together,” he snarled. “Sansa, no one got hurt."

Once Margaery and Willas arrived, it was a slow-motion blur. Everything quiet and dull. Sansa wouldn’t let go of Sandor, she stayed with him, holding him and leaning into him. Margaery handled everything as Willas got them settled. She knew who to call and who to yell at.

Once they got home, Sandor felt like he couldn't remember anything. Margaery helped him inside to his room where he was able to fetch the spare leg from his closet. He was glad his doctor insisted on him getting a new one last visit. It would be in by the end of the month. The replacement he kept was an old thing and it was uncomfortable to walk in, but it got the job done. 

He sat on the foot of his bed and took off his pants, the leg more shredded and mangled than he recalled from earlier. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Everything was beginning to settle, his body was beginning to hurt, a headache blooming from the stress.

He attached the replacement and put on his pajama bottoms since they were closer. He walked out, Willas was sitting with Sansa on his sofa, Lady at their feet. Margaery was in his kitchen, murmuring on the phone to someone.

Sansa looked up as he came in, her eyes wide and red from crying. She stood up and rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

He put his hand on her shoulder, “please tell me you’re fine,” he growled. “I won’t let you get away without answering me.”

He blinked tears away as she looked up at him. “Your face is-”

“Are. You. Hurt?” He spelled out.

“Bumps and bruises,” her forced smile crooked. “I’m fine.”

He motioned to the sofa, “go sit. Calm down,” he growled.

She opened her mouth as if to argue but she nodded and did as told. He watched as Willas put his arm around her and she laid her head on his shoulder. He went towards Margaery, a stony look on her face he never assumed she could make. She hung up the phone and looked at him, concern behind the stone. 

“You’re alright?”

“I don’t care,” he huffed. “What’s going on?” He asked. “Do you know anything?”

“We’re getting footage from the camera,” she replied. “Baelish is-”

“Baelish?” He hissed. “It’s his fault this happened!”

Margaery shook her head. “We can’t say that,” she murmured. “I’ll admit that circumstances are strange and I’ve never rightly trusted him like Sansa does,” she whispered so only he could hear. “But we have to play along for now.”

“Play along,” he scoffed.

“Let me worry about Baelish,” she commanded, “you take care of her.”

“Willas has her,” he growled.

“She doesn’t want Willas!” She hissed, throwing her arms up in the air. “Good lord you’re as stupid as you look.”

He opened his mouth to bark back as she answered the phone and went outside. He huffed, turning and seeing Willas beckon him over. He came up behind the sofa, leaning towards him.

“If you take her upstairs and to her room, I’ll help Margaery with this business,” he replied.

Sansa looked up at Sandor, her eyes pleading a bit.

“Fine,” Sandor scoffed, he walked around the sofa and took Sansa’s hand. Lady led them up the stairs and into Sansa’s room.

Sansa sat on the edge of her bed and Sandor knelt before her, removing her shoes. His hand pet up her leg, noticing bruises and a few scratches. Her legs had been perfect and untouched earlier that morning and the hatred in him swelled.

Sansa was taking off her shirt, her hands still trembling and unable to undo the buttons.

Sandor cupped her hands and stilled her.

“My robe is…” she pointed a shaky hand to the gray thing hanging on the back of her vanity chair. 

“I’ll get it,” he replied, opening up her shirt and removing it. He turned and fetched her robe, draping it over her and helping her get her arms through.

She gripped onto his hand. “Stay with me,” she pleaded.

He sighed, nodding. “I have no choice do I?” He crawled up onto the bed, letting her move him so she could find comfort. Her head lay on his chest, her eyes closed and her breathing slowing.

“I’ll be fine,” she murmured as she laced her fingers with his, her hands still shaking.  
“I know you will,” he squeezed her hand back and kissed the top of her head. Her hands went still, her body going lax as she laid her full weight into him, giving into exhaustion and sleeping. He sighed, pulling a blanket up around her and holding her as she slept.

 

Sansa woke deep into the night, her body aching as she lifted herself up. Her head was in a haze, she could barely recall anything. She turned on her light, intending to get up and get something to drink. As she moved, an arm tightened around and she felt the panic rise up again before she looked down and saw Sandor sleeping beside her.

Her body relaxed and she touched his cheek. Things started coming back to her in slow progression. The crosswalk, Lady’s barking, Sandor’s strong arms grasping her tight. 

She touched his cheek, her fingers smoothing along the bruise on his forehead. 

She remembered the crunching sound and Sandor’s shoe flying off. She flinched and pulled back the covers, seeing both his legs and her heart dropped back down from her throat and into her chest. As she looked, she saw a metal and wood sort of piece where a foot should have been. She reached down to pull up the pants leg and Sandor grumbled, raising up on his elbow.

“Awake?” He growled.

Sansa pulled away and she smiled softly. “Yes,” she murmured. “I was going to get something to drink.” She inched back towards him, crawling back into his arms and laying against him.

“Then go get something,” he pet her back.

“I will in a second,” she sighed, nuzzling his neck.

“I’m fine,” he scoffed. “I think we both escaped with only a few bruises to tell the tale.”

Sansa sat up, her robe hanging open, the soft curves of her breasts exposed. “You saved my life,” she murmured with a smile. 

Sandor closed her robe and he sat up. “I don’t need your pretty thanks,” he huffed and turned his head.

“Don’t be stubborn,” she tugged on his arm. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“It’s my fault,” he growled. “I shouldn’t have let you take those files.”

Sansa sat up on her knees and forced his face towards her. “Hey,” she snapped at him. “Shut the hell up,” she smiled at him and kissed him despite his resistance. She parted her lips, dragging them against his burnt cheek and skin, kissing his closed, blind eye.

“I’m the one who forgot them,” she murmured to him, moving to straddle his hips and hold him in place. “Did you fix my water?” She asked, kissing his neck and shoulder.

He moaned, his hands grabbing her hips. “Yes,” he swallowed, throat tight.

“I’ll make us some tea,” she kissed the large black and purple bruise on his shoulder. “I can’t handle coffee right now.”

He made a disgusted noise, “I fucking hate tea.”

Sansa thought for a moment and remembered the bottle of expensive wine they hadn’t opened the night of their date. “There’s the wine.”

“Then bring me wine,” Sandor snarled.

Sansa kissed him again, feeling as if she were dreaming. Nothing felt real or in place except for him. He was solid and unmoving in a world that felt like liquid around her.  
She made a quick dash to the kitchen and grabbed the wine and an opener for it and jumped back into the bed before Sandor. 

“No glasses?” He grunted as he adjusted himself.

“I figured they wouldn’t matter right now,” Sansa said, handing the bottle and opener to him.

He took them, stabbing the opener in and the cork squeaked and groaned until a gentle pop echoed in the room. He gave her the bottle, allowing her the first drink.  
She made a face after the sip. “I thought this was supposed to be good,” she wiped her mouth and passed the bottle back.

“What do you think is good wine?” Sandor laughed as he swung the bottle back.

“I like it a little sweeter. Not so dry.”

Sandor sighed as he pulled the bottle back. “Then stick to the five dollar section in your grocery store.”

Sansa took the bottle and tried another sip. “Maybe I will,” she shivered.

After several moments of silence separated by the sounds of the wine sloshing, Sandor looked at her, seeing her eyes staring off into a dark corner but focused on something more distant.

“Do you remember anything?”

Sansa turned back to him. “It’s coming back,” she replied. “I remember hearing Lady, and then I saw you,” she replied. “And the car...it was black and the windows were tinted. I couldn’t see anyone inside. It could have been blue…” she mumbled. “It was a dark color I think.” She then took a deep breath.

“I thought your leg had been run over.”

Sandor looked down, avoiding her eyes.

“It was...run over,” she murmured.

“I was,” he growled, taking a long drink.

Sansa leaned towards him. “But you’re not hurt.”

He snorted and set the bottle on the bedside table. “I’m out a large sum of money, that hurts me.” He looked back up at her. “But no, I’m not hurt.”

“Then I’m glad,” she replied, her voice soft and forgiving. 

His eyebrows raised. He was expecting questions and worry. Instead, she smiled and crawled closer towards him. “You’re glad?” He asked as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“Would you prefer I be upset you didn’t get hurt in my honor?” She scoffed, holding him tight in her arms. 

His arm slipped around her waist. “Never mind,” he growled. 

“I guess I just keep finding ways to monopolize you, whether I mean to or not,” she chuckled and sat back down beside him, her hand on his knee. 

“I don’t have anyone else that would fight you for the pleasure of my company,” he scoffed. “So I wouldn’t exactly say you’re monopolizing me. I’m simply unwanted elsewhere.”

Sansa pouted at these remarks. “You keep saying such things. It bothers me you think so lowly of yourself. Like you’re some abandoned dog on the side of the road.”

“I was once,” he quipped. 

Sansa’s eyes widened, “oh,” her cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry I-I didn’t mean to-”

“I’ve never been whole, Sansa,” his voice dark and quiet like footsteps in the dark. “You best know that some men are always broken and no matter how hard you try to fit the pieces back together some are always missing.”

“There’s beauty in broken,” Sansa murmured. “And even if there are pieces missing, you may be whole to someone else. You can come up short but always be more than enough for someone else,” she smiled at him. She opened up her robe and turned her back to him. The robe fell off her bare back and showed him the long scar going from under her left arm and down to her lower back in a stretched crescent. 

His mouth hung open as he stared at the scar that warped her beautiful skin. His fingers brushed against it and he frowned. “It’s old.”

“I got it not long after I graduated high school,” Sansa replied, pulling her hair over her shoulder. She looked back at him. “I hate it,” she admitted. “But I’ve always told myself it could’ve been worse.”

“Could have been?”

“I was living with him at the time,” she murmured, voice low and quiet now. “Or well, I guess now you’d say I was being held against my will. I just didn’t know any better at the time. It was around that time Mr. Baelish took over the case, it was because of his work I was found and brought home.” Her voice shuddered.

Sandor pulled her robe back up around her and she stared at him with surprise. He kissed her temple and she leaned into the affection.  
“I don’t mind scars,” her voice trembled. Sandor pulled away and she looked up at him with wide, bleary eyes. 

“You don’t need to get all sentimental with me,” he wiped away her tears. 

She caught his hand and held it to her cheek. “You’re whole to me,” she nuzzled to his palm. “You’re enough for me.”

“Silly little bird,” he growled. “You should learn to think twice.”

“I’ll wait,” she murmured. “I want to know all of you, I want to understand. But...you aren’t ready and I won’t push,” She kissed his palm and smiled. “You’re safe with me.”

He scoffed. “We nearly got run over by a car. How am I safe with you?” He cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat.

Sansa giggled, “As safe as you can get with me, I suppose.” She slipped her legs off the side of the bed and walked to the window, opening the curtains. “Good morning,” she cooed.

“Sansa I-”

She turned and looked back at him, her hair illuminated by the hazy glow of the rising sun.

“I can make breakfast if you’re hungry.”

“I’d like that.”


	9. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their busy schedules are keeping them apart and both are longing to see the other.

For a while, it seemed like the world didn’t stop. Sandor had so many jobs he could barely go home to shower and change. Sansa was busy too, her family came and she went home for a few days while everything with the hit and run was filed and investigated. School was getting busy as the end of the semester was approaching. Work was also a thunderstorm and Mr. Baelish asked Sansa to not only assist him but Mr. Lannister as well.

The place was quiet, neither one could tell when they were coming or going. The house felt like a lonely place, empty and cold. Their mornings they spent passing each other by one their routes was a memory. He was working late, she was getting up earlier to make sure Lady got her walk. It was Lady who was the only one who got to see them both, and even then it wasn’t enough. 

Sandor would come home and she’d be waiting on him, get her affection and then he’d either try to sleep or go to the gym. 

One day he came home and Lady wasn’t around. She was always there, so it was puzzling. He was sure Sansa wasn’t home, the car she started driving after the incident wasn’t in the driveway. As he moved around his apartment and placed his things back into the safe he heard shuffling around upstairs. Maybe Lady was asleep.

“Lady! Don’t go down the stairs!” It was a girl’s voice, but neither Sansa’s or the wicked brunette’s.   
He stepped onto the stairs as Lady came for him, up above he saw a young girl. She had dark, short hair, and wide eyes staring at him with steel. 

“Oh, you’re the neighbor,” she said.

“And you might be?” He snarled at her.

“Surprise, surprise my sister never mentions me,” the girl said as she leaned on the doorframe. Behind her another dog stalked and sat beside her. She looked like Lady, but much bigger and eyes a brighter shade of gold. 

“Sister,” he scoffed.

The girl eyed him closely, studying him for the longest time. Her gaze wasn’t like her sister’s. It was a harder stare, a person staring down their enemy sort of look. “You pulled her out of the way,” she said,neither asking or stating, surmising really.

“Yes,” he replied in kind, rubbing Lady’s ears.

Her gray eyes flicked up, meeting his own gray one. “Why?”

Why did this little wolf set his teeth on edge? Something about her made him question if she and Sansa really came from the same litter.

“Why?” He echoed back.

“You like her?” She asked.

“Does it matter? Shouldn’t you be grateful I saved her at all?”

“You look like a villain, talk like one too from what I’ve witnessed,” She chuckled. “Yet your actions don’t add up. You act like some sort of hero.”

His eyes narrowed on her and she returned the gaze in kind. “I don’t claim to be either, girl.”

“What? Did you grow up eating Clint Eastwood movies?” She snorted. She then waved her hand. “Well, I did my job. Gotta go.”

He frowned. “Job?”

She nodded. “Sansa asked me to walk Lady. Said I should keep an eye on her from time to time and let her play with Nymeria,” her hand rested on the giant dog sitting beside her. “So don’t try and kill me if I’m here again,” she said as she turned and left.

Nymeria stared down at Sandor before following her master.

Lady licked happily at Sandor’s face as he listened to the girl leave and lock the door. “Sister, huh?” He scratched under Lady’s chin. “I prefer the one who lives here.” He went back into his bedroom and took off his clothes. They stunk of the club he went into. Cigar smoke and beer, the fruity cocktail a drunk girl spilled all over him. The night was hard, he felt as tight and pulled as piano wire. His replacement leg didn’t help things. It was old and uncomfortable, the straps dug into his skin and the cup where his knee sat was made of old rubber and it chafed him as well as made him sweat. He also had only had about ten hours of sleep under his belt for the entire week.

He had to go to Baelish’s office that evening. Something he wasn’t looking forward to, never did, but even less now. He didn’t trust Baelish’s intentions with Sansa, and his gut told him that it was Baelish who was responsible for the hit and run.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes and laying back in bed. He thought about the wine he and Sansa shared. Her bed and her chilled fingers on his bare skin. He closed his eyes then opened then quickly, setting the alarm on his clock and then easing back.

 

Sansa was working later than ever that evening. Margaery managed to find somewhere still open and brought them food so greasy the paper bag was transparent. Their work spread out as far as the eye could see like dead soldiers on a battlefield.

“Thanks,” Sansa replied as she shoved food into her mouth.

“If they’re going to work us to death the least they could do is feed us,” Margaery grumbled as she settled back in. “I feel like I haven’t been home in ages. Let alone eaten something that didn’t come out of cardboard or a paper bag.”

“I can barely remember what my bed feels like,” Sansa sighed. “I feel like all I do is become unconscious then wake up somehow already at school or here.”

“Too bad, I was hoping you were going to say you’d been sleeping with that big bad wolf of yours,” Margaery teased.

“I haven’t seen him either,” Sansa scoffed. “I’m starting to think I dreamed him up.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Genuine concern on something other than the hit and run was a welcome turn.

“Not long after the incident,” Sansa replied. “He’s pretty much in the same boat I’m in. He’s covered up with work.”

“Hm,” Margaery huffed through her nose. 

“What’s that about?” Sansa scoffed as she closed a file. 

She shook her head. “Oh, nothing.” She ate a bite of her food. “I just think it’s a shame. So busy and all, so much stress you wouldn’t have-” she shook her head. “Never mind, it’s none of my business.”

“What?” Sansa growled.  
“You don’t have a stress ball,” Margaery said between bites. “I’m just saying that he would make a good stress ball.”

“I don’t have time to destress! I’m studying when I’m not working, and when I’m not doing either I’m at school probably doing all three at the same time. And in those few moments I’m running between them I’m trying to not get hit by a car!”

“Well, when the holidays pop up and you can sit down and breathe, sit down on his-” Sansa threw a fistful of french fries at her before she could finish.

Sansa then stood up and stacked the files she finished sorting. “I’m taking these to Mr. Lannister and then hopefully I can go home.”

The office was dark as she walked down the hallway. Everyone was home. She walked into Mr. Lannister’s office, seeing him languishing over a case file.

“I thought you could use this,” She said. “It’s the defendant's bank records. I managed to find them buried with all the other evidence. I think his lawyers were trying to stuff it into the back of everything.”

“I fucking hate fraud cases. I especially fucking hate rich people,” Tyrion scoffed, scratching at his chin, which was long over do for a shave. He then eyed Sansa as she tried to suppress a knowing smirk. “I know I’m rich, Ms. Stark,” he sneered at her own rich family. “But you...know my family.” He hesitated when he realized what that meant.

Sansa brushed it off, her nod a sharp one. “Have you been able to go home at all, Mr. Lannister?”

“Why the hell would I ever want to go there?” He groaned. “My girlfriend left me, my brother is stinking up my couch, and my sister...well,” he snorted.

“Is the divorce still…?” She wasn’t sure why she was even asking after the woman who made her life hell for a year after escaping her horrid child.

“It’s a bloody war,” Tyrion murmured. “Thank god I’m family and don’t have to dirty my hands with it.” He smiled as he looked over the folder. “This was good work digging this up,” he then set it aside and looked up at Sansa. “You know, I’ve been looking for a decent assistant. If you ever wish to leave Baelish I can pay you well.”

Sansa was surprised, her eyes widened as he asked. “Oh but-”

“Now I know your family and my family have...well let’s face it you have every right to hate me,” Tyrion started. “But you have potential in this work and I can show you and help you with things I think you’d be good at, Ms. Stark and I-”

“No no,” Sansa laughed. “No, I’m not talking about...about all that in the past. And, I don’t hate you Mr. Lannister, please don’t think I would! I meant, what about Margaery?”

“Oh!” Tyrion leaned back into his chair. “Well, she’s graduating after all,” he answered. “I’ll be hiring her on as a lawyer soon. She can’t be my assistant and my pitbull at the same time.”

Sansa smiled, “oh, right,” she nodded. “I mean...it is tempting, Mr. Lannister, don’t get me wrong. I do admire your work but I-”

Tyrion rolled his eyes, “Baelish right?”

“I feel like I owe him. Plus I’m renting from him, don’t want him raising my rent on me,” she shrugged. 

“Offer stands,” Tyrion replied. 

“Thank you,” Sansa said. “If that’s all you need tonight I think I’ll go home.”

“One second,” Tyrion leaned across his desk. “If you are ever worried,” he murmured, “just come to me.” He glanced out his door, across the hall at Baelish’s door. “I know you’re worried right now, you have good reason to be. If there’s ever any doubt in your mind, speak it to me.”

It was a relief to hear that, a question on her mind she wouldn’t dare ask answered. “Yes,” she whispered back. “I would really appreciate the ear.”

“I know my partner and his ways, that’s partly why I brought him on as partner but...I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him.” He gave Sansa and smile. “Now go home. You’ve earned it.”

She smiled and turned, heading for her desk at the front of the office.

As she was heading to her desk to gather her things she saw Mr. Baelish’s light was still on. As she walked towards the door to tell him good night she heard voices inside. She hesitated and listening through the crack of the door.

“-was stolen and the plates were switched. When I tracked down the actual car the tags belonged to all I found was a little old man who only drove the damn thing on Sundays. He never even knew the plates were gone.” His voice was dark and hushed, a husky rasp like walking on gravel.

“And the car itself?” Baelish asked.

“I’m still tracking it down. There are still a few homes they own I haven’t been able to gain access to. But I’m fairly certain it’s there. They won’t get rid of it until after the holidays.”

“I need the evidence, Clegane. Without it, I won’t have what I need.”

“To protect the girl,” he stated threateningly.

“Of course to keep Sansa safe,” Baelish’s voice as unreadable as ever. “But you must understand, I have to work it from every angle. I have so much riding on the line here.”

“I know your angle, Baelish,” Sandor growled. “All you do is shove your fingers into pies.”

Baelish chuckled. “I pay you for your results and your silence Sandor. Please do both.”  
“I’ll get you what your results” he began walking towards the door. 

“You always do,” Baelish purred.

Sansa held her breath and hid behind the door as it opened up. She watched as Sandor walked away, his back turned towards her and wrapped in a leather jacket. She wasn’t sure why she was afraid to move and call out to him. She wasn’t sure at all what she heard, she just knew she didn’t like it. She felt kept in the dark and hidden away.

She pulled herself away when she heard Sandor’s motorcycle speed away. She darted away from Baelish’s door and made her way outside. Her brother, Jon, loaned her his car and on a cold night like this, she was grateful for it. She couldn’t imagine that Sandor enjoyed driving that motorcycle in such horrible cold.

At home, Lady was waiting eagerly. There was a note left by her sister. Their mother sent along some food and it was in the fridge. Her sister had also taken Lady for a walk thinking that Sansa wouldn’t be able to do it in the morning since the weather showed a snowstorm coming.

Sansa sighed, not caring could be snowed in for a week without power. At least then she could stop for a second and realize how awful her apartment had become. 

She went to the fridge to inspect the food but instead saw the bottle of wine. She grabbed it and uncorked it, taking a few chugs before groaning in disgust and taking another chug again.

The wind howled outside and the lights fluttered. Lady keened and pranced her paws as she inched closer to Sansa.

“It’ll be fine,” Sansa reassured and rubbed her ears. “Just be glad I got home in time.” She pulled a container from the fridge and took it with her to the table. She ate it cold, too tired and too hungry to heat it up. Outside the wind howled and cried, and already a mixture of snow and ice were beating against the windows. The storm brewing and boiling like they were inside the snowglobe of an angry child.

Her phone rang with an emergency weather alert, then several text messages and emails about classes being canceled.

“How lucky am I?” She cooed to Lady. She then wondered if Sandor was out working for Baelish or if he made it home. It was dark so she never saw his black motorcycle in his driveway. She bit her lip and looked at her phone, wondering if she should call and see if he was somewhere warm and safe. But if he was home she didn’t want to seem like she was being weird and clingy.

“He’s an adult,” she told Lady. “He’ll be just fine.”

Lady whimpered.

“If you miss him so much then why don’t you go and find him?”

Lady jumped up and ran down the stairs.

Sansa shook her head and continued eating from the cold dish. Trying to pretend she wasn’t anxious for Lady to come back, Sandor following behind her. She argued with herself she should just go downstairs and at least say hello. Make sure he hadn’t frozen to death. See if he wanted to join her for something hot to drink before the power went out.

She stood up and walked to the top of the stairs, looking down. It was dark below, no sign of life. “Lady?” She hissed down the stairs. She then whistled, “Lady! Get your fluffy ass back up here!”

“Should just come down,” his voice called out from the shadows.

Her heart leaped up into her throat and she swallowed it back. “Oh, you’re home,” she descended the first stair as a light came on below. She came down, stepping into his apartment and seeing him removing an ice and snow caked jacket and boots. His face red and chapped, Lady was licking at his fingers as he tried to undo the laces of his boots.

“Here, let me,” she knelt down, helping him to remove his shoes.

“Fucking cold,” his teeth chattered. “I thought a quick stop at the store was smart.”

She felt bad she hadn’t stopped him at the office now. There were things he couldn’t say because of Baelish. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. 

“I’ll make you something warm,” she said, as she moved to his other boot.

He stopped her there, still not wanting her to get too close to what was beneath. “I’d prefer you’d do that. I can get this.”

“If you’re certain,” she stood and cupped a warm hand on his cheek. “You’re frigid! Don’t you wear anything protective?”

He hissed, her warmth painful at first then soothing. “Mnh,” he grumbled.

She sighed and went on into his kitchen, seeing his coffee pot prepped and ready, all she needed to do was turn it on. “It’s supposed to get worse,” she replied. “Are you working tonight?”

“Thank the lord, no,” he huffed as he freed himself from his cold clothes. 

“My classes are canceled too,” she suddenly felt awkward. After being apart from him for so long she suddenly wasn’t sure how to approach again. They spent so much time together before, and she dreamed of his kisses, and all of that seemed so far away. She felt like running into his arms now would cross the line.

“You look tired, you should go to sleep.”

That all but made her feel worse.

“You can sleep down here if the storm bothers you,” he rasped as he stepped into the kitchen with her.

She couldn’t tell if her heart turned into a hummingbird or stopped. “Huh?” She gasped as she looked up at him.

“I don’t have windows in my bedroom,” he replied. “And right now it’s making all sorts of noise outside. You can sleep down here if it scares you.”

“It doesn’t scare me,” she watched him make his coffee.

“Oh, good then.”

“But I’ll stay,” she put her toe over the line. “If your bed is big enough.”

He took his first sip of coffee. “I’d sleep on the sofa, it's alright.”

“No, you won’t!” Sansa stomped her foot. “Don’t invite me to sleep in your place if you don’t intend on doing it with me.”

Sandor chuckled, his smirk showing off his sharp teeth. 

Her heart clobbered her ribs and battered her lungs it was pounding so hard. She took the coffee out of his hand and set it aside. He tasted like coffee and mint gum. His scruff having gotten thicker and fuller, his hair longer and darker. Had it really been that long? Or was growing hair just his natural talent? She moaned against his mouth as he pressed back to her kiss, his hands on her face as her hands went up under his shirt. His skin cold where she touched.

“You’re warm,” he moaned as he pulled back from her to catch his breath.

Sansa giggled, “usually you’re the warm one,” she moaned against his throat. Her hands ventured further up his shirt, groping and feeling as she pleased. He was hard and thick all over, his body as refined and well crafted as a marble statue. Well, if marble could grow a pelt for the winter.

“Stop it,” he tried to grab her hands through his shirt.

“Why?” Sansa felt him squirm. “Does it tickle?” She flexed her fingers near his armpits and he jerked slightly, trying to cover it as a cough. “Don’t tell me you’re the ticklish sort?” She let her fingers ripple down his side so she could watch his throat strain and become taut as he tried to keep himself under control.

“You’re imagining things,” he huffed, backing away but still in her clutches.

“Yes, I must be,” her hands groped his sides where love handles were usually located and his stomach lurched. His hands reaching behind him and grabbing the counter. 

Sansa bit her lip to keep from laughing. She had him cornered, she could do as she pleased to him if she wanted. Her fingers continued to explore and play, finding every nook and cranny of his hard, well-kept body.

“Enough of that,” his voice hitched.

Sansa pressed close, her chin on his chest. “Margaery had a good idea.”

“I highly doubt the brunette has had any such thing in her life,” Sandor snarled, averting his eyes.

“I’ve been so stressed lately. Finals are coming up. Work is like a hurricane and a tornado fighting it out. Margaery said I should use you as my stress ball.”

“A stress ball?” Sandor scoffed. “I’m as tightly wound as they come.” He managed to slip away from her probing fingers and escape her clutches. 

“I suppose,” Sansa pouted, folding her arms across her chest. He always got away just when she had him right where she wanted him. “Then again, you work for Mr. Baelish too, that's probably why you’ve been so busy.”

Sandor’s hand hovered around his mug for a moment then he picked it up. “That's right.”

“I knew the plates were stolen,” she murmured. “But-” she stopped and shook her head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t talk about work or anything when there’s a moment to breathe away from it.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Sandor put his hand against her lower back, now warmed from the mug and her attentions. She felt comforted by just his palm there, strong and attentive. “You’ve got that fancy car now.”

“I have you,” Sansa corrected, leaning into his towering body.

He scoffed, “if you want a stray dog like me.”

“I do,” she then cupped her hand over her mouth, the words a little bit more than suggestive at this point in the relationship.

“Go get pillows,” he swatted her butt. “Couple of blankets too, I don’t have much.”

Lady lifted her head from the sofa, looking like she was severely disappointed in the both of them. Suddenly her ears went flat and her lips curled upward. She shot off the sofa and dashed upstairs where she began snarling and barking.

“Lady!” Sansa went to chase after her but Sandor pulled her back and raced up ahead of her. When he got upstairs the door was wide open and Lady was a wild animal before it, snarling and snapping and threatening to tear out any throat that came near her. Sandor stood in the wind and sheeting ice and watched as a shadow raced into the park.

Sansa came up behind him, her hand reaching out and clutching his, squeezing so tight that both their knuckles went white.

“There was someone in my house,” she whimpered.

“Go back downstairs,” Sandor growled. “I’ll go over the place with Lady.”

Sansa squeezed his hand again. “No,” she murmured. “I’m looking with you,” she looked up at him, a determined yet terrified look in her eye. She didn’t want to be left alone, she had to stay with him or she’d fall to pieces.

Sandor shut the door and locked it, taking a chair from the counter and using it to prop underneath the handle.

Lady led the way through the house, sniffling and snorting, pointing out places that Sansa confirmed looked rifled through. Her backpack and files bag for work, her purse dumped out but nothing was missing. 

“It doesn’t look like she was able to get far before Lady came for him,” Sandor growled as he helped Sansa pick up her things.

Sansa clutched to Sandor’s chest, “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

He put his arm around her, his hand on her lower back spread out. “I do,” he growled. He grabbed what he could off her bed and led her back downstairs. He tossed her blanket and pillows on his bed then opened up the safe in the back of his closet. He pulled out the gun inside and checked for bullets.

“Oh,” Sansa seized up at the sight of it. 

“Don’t worry about it none,” he growled. “Whoever is after you should be, though.”

Sansa collapsed at the foot of the bed and held her head in her hands. “This is all too much for me.”

“Stay put,” he took a flashlight from out of his nightstand. “I’m going to go check around outside and block the stairs.”

Sansa lifted her head. “Be careful,” she clutched onto his wrist. “Surely Lady frightened him off. Why would there be more than one person risking this weather?”

He nodded, “let me do this.”

She reeled back and nodded, watching him go.

He slipped on his coat again and went outside with the flashlight shining on the snow and sleet. He looked around, checking the ground for footprints. He saw that the door to the laundry/tool shed was open and beating in the wind. He walked out to it, seeing that much like Sansa’s place it too had been gone through. Luckily, he stopped hiding things out there ages ago. He closed the door back and checked around some more. 

He bolted the door and braced it with a chair when he got inside. Sansa was watching from the doorway, eyes wide and expectant. 

“They didn’t need anything from me apparently,” he lied. He knew they would come for him as well as Sansa. Sansa was just the easier bait right now.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He pulled off his coat. He was frosted over, the front of his shirt wet from ice and snow that melted, his hair and beard glittering with remaining ice crystals.

She shook her head. “It isn’t your fault,” she smiled to reassure him as well as herself. “I don’t know what I could have that they’re willing to risk Lady eating them for.”

“They think you have plenty.” Sandor put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. He didn’t want to worry her anymore by saying out loud what he knew she was already thinking.

The person in her home was also the person driving the car that almost hit her. They weren’t just looking for something, they were also looking for her.

“You’re frigid,” Sansa murmured as she pressed closer to him. 

He moved Sansa into the bedroom. “Get comfortable and try to relax,” he said. “I’m going to barricade the stairs.

Sansa was unbuttoning her blouse with trembling fingers. “Do you think that’s necessary?”

Sandor went to her, helping her undo her shirt. “Will it make you feel better?” He took a shirt from the laundry basket by the door, a fresh load he managed to do that morning.

She looked down then back up at him, taking the shirt. “It will,” she murmured as quiet as a mouse.

“Then it’s necessary,” he said, making sure she crawled into bed before he went upstairs. 

Her little booth-like table made a perfect barricade for the top of the stairs. It blocked it off, leaving only an inch of space at the top. Plus it would make a horrible racket if someone tried to move it. At the bottom of the stairs he braced his couch against the door frame and stacked his stairs behind it. Lady laid on the sofa and looked up at him, wagging her tail.

“All I need is you, don’t I girl?” He fed her a fistful of treats before returning to the bedroom.

Sansa was laying in bed, tucked under covers and comfortable but her eyes wide open and staring at the bathroom door. She sat up as Sandor sat down beside her. “You bed is softer than I would've assumed,” her voice still low and soft.

“Do you prefer firm?” Sandor teased as he peeled off his boots again.

“Shouldn’t we call someone?” She asked she was clutching a towel to dry him off with. 

. “No,” he let her take the towel to his cold hair and skin. “Don’t let them know you’re scared. Chances are that they’re protected. We won’t help anyone calling.”

Her hands stilled. “Then what do I do?” 

“You should go back home,” Sandor answered. “Leave this place and return to the safety of your home with your parents and your brothers.”

Sansa’s jaw dropped. “I…” she began to tear up then. Big fat droplets rolling down her cheeks.

“Sansa,” he growled as she turned her head away, wiping her tears away on the shirt he gave her.  
Sandor sighed, grasping onto his knees. “Stay on with Baelish. If this all winds up being connected to him or the law firm then it will be their responsibility and they can handle it. They’ll have to take care of you.” He pet her hair and back. “You’ll be safer with family.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she hiccuped. “But I don’t want to leave,” she murmured. “I love this place so much. I’ve made a life here I love,” she wiped fat tears from her cheek. “But I can’t always ask you to look after me. It’s not your responsibility.”

“Going home...is better,” he growled. “You should go before shit hits the fan.”

“What about you?” She asked, reaching out and touching his hand. “You’ll be all alone.”

Sandor scoffed, “I’ve lived alone before,” he stood up. “It won’t be the first time, and it won’t be the last.” He turned the light off then sat at the foot of the bed.

“We’re supposed to visit with family up north,” she murmured. “Maybe I can wait until after the New Years,” she huffed. “I really didn’t want to go on that trip.”

“Maybe it won’t be all that bad,” he grunted as he pulled his shirt off. 

Her hand was on his bare back, smooth and soft against his taut muscles. “You’re all knotted,” she cooed against his ear. Her lips brushing against him making him shiver. Her lips then on his spine turned him into a puddle. 

“Why do you insist on touching me so much?” He breathed to try and turn solid again.

“Because I like it,” Sansa purred. “It makes me feel better.”

“Makes you feel better,” he scoffed in disbelief. 

She kissed his shoulder, still black and blue from the hit and run. Her hands smoothed down his back and then wrapped around his sides, caressing around his ribs and up his chest. 

“I think Lady earned that steak tonight,” she murmured against his back.

Sandor chuckled, “Aye, she did.” He turned and looked at her as best he could in the dark. “Lay down,” he growled and she did as he commanded. He crawled up and laid down beside her, letting her curl up beside him and lay her head on his chest.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she grumbled, her finger tracing patterns in his chest hair. 

“I know,” he grumbled. “I met your sister today.”

Sansa’s head lifted slightly. “Arya?” She asked. “What’d she do?”

He laughed, “nothing. Just glared at me.”

Her cheek rested back on his chest. “Oh good.”

“Why?” He rubbed her arm and shoulder. “What does she normally do?”

“Oh, all manner of things,” she sighed as she snuggled close to him. “She used to glue my things to the counter. I mentioned you and she seemed awful curious. So I was worried you had caught her snooping.”

“I don’t think so if anything I stopped her before she did,” he said as he thought about it. “She sent Lady ahead to see if I was home.”

Sansa snorted and covered her mouth. “That makes more sense!” She kissed his chest and collarbone, taking full advantage to touch and kiss. Her stress melting away as much as it could. The only thing that would make it better, she thought, would be if he touched her back.

Her hand pet down to his stomach, enjoying the ripple of her fingers along his toned body. “Can I ask you questions?”

“Questions?” He scoffed. “Depends.”

Her finger prodded into his belly button and he had to stifle a laugh. “You don’t talk about yourself unless it’s to put yourself down.”

“There’s not a lot of care to talk about,” he rubbed her arm. “Nothing that matters.”

Sansa’s cheek smooshed to his chest. “It matters to me,” she murmured. “You don’t have to be alone.”  
“Did you learn to talk like that from Willas?” He scoffed.

“Yes,” her cheek moved as she looked up at him. “He helped me quite a bit,” her hand was on his neck, her fingers in his hair. 

Sandor kissed her to shut her up. He didn’t care about Willas, he didn’t even care enough to talk about himself. Sansa whimpered as he kissed her, but she molded to him, kissing back and hitching her knee up, touching his hip, her foot brushing against his knee where his leg ended. He rolled her onto her back, moving so she couldn’t touch him there.

Sansa pat his cheek and they parted for a moment. “Mnh,” Sansa cooed as she caught her breath. She kissed his jaw and neck. “If you keep kissing me like that I am not responsible for what happens to you.”

Sandor chuckled, “is that a promise?”

She cuddled to him again. “You should try and see,” her fingers dug into his ass and kneaded. “I owe you quite a bit for tonight.”

“Wasn’t me,” his voice a deep, dark purr. “That was all Lady.”

Sansa kissed him again, her fingers snaking up his back and tangling in his hair. “She’d understand if I thanked you instead.”

Sandor pulled back, moving her hands and pinning them above her head. “Make me a coupon,” he growled. “I’ll save it.”

Sansa pouted as he pulled away and laid back down. She could understand, though, he's exhausted, and after what happened, she was a bit knotted and exhausted. “Fine,” she groused, biting his bicep as she snuggled back to him.

“I still owe you a date,” he sighed as he relaxed into the bed, her body warm and soft against him. “Maybe then.”

Sansa’s heart throbbed and she pinched her thighs together as she felt pressure build. In the back of her mind, she wanted to blurt, it can be anytime. But her ladylike ways kept her quiet. Instead, she nodded and spread her hand out across his chest again, pulling the blanket around him. 

“Keep me safe until morning,” she murmured.

“I’m no knight, but I will.”


	10. Tell Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Sandor open up more to one another about their pasts.

Was he dreaming? He couldn’t tell. Everything was so still and peaceful like the world had become frozen. He couldn’t remember falling asleep. It had been so long that he’d done it properly that it felt like some alien behavior in himself. He turned, hearing her breathing so soft and even beside him. This was alien too, waking up with some creature in his bed.

She looked peaceful, looked happy. He stared up at the ceiling, just listening to her breathe. Perhaps it was her that kept him asleep, the sound of her breathing.

He braced himself up on his elbow, the room was cold. Perhaps the world was frozen after all. He slid to the edge of the bed and wiped his eyes.

“Come back,” her fingers grabbed the elastic of his boxers and yanked on him. “It’s cold and you took all my heat.” 

“I was going to check and see what damage that blizzard did,” he smirked back at her. “You can store up more heat for me when I come back inside.”

Sansa pouted at him, tugging on his boxers again. “Or you could just stay,” she grumbled.

Sandor stood, her hand tugging his boxers down before she let go. He pulled up his pants as soon as she did and tugged on a shirt. “I’ll be back, remain comfy.” He said as he stepped out of the bedroom.   
Outside the world was white and frosted over, a good thick layer of snow on the ground. He checked a few things outside, making sure the power was still on and that the gas hadn’t busted and water hadn’t frozen in the pipes. The power wasn’t running, but at least the water was fine.

After freezing outside without his jacket he went back to the bedroom. Sansa was still curled up under the blankets, looking as warm and peaceful as ever. “Power is out,” he sat on the edge of the bed and took the prosthetic off, setting it under the mattress.

“Mm,” Sansa sat upon her elbows. “How was it out?”

“White, cold,” Sandor replied as he eased back into bed.

Sansa bit her lip, “did you check upstairs?” She looked up at him,slight fear in her eyes. 

Sandor laid on his back beside her. “I didn’t,” he grunted as he eased into the mattress. “But Lady didn’t make a noise at all. I trust her judgment.”

Sansa was silent for a long time, and she made no move towards him. She seemed in deep thought and worry, her eyes downcast and mouth screwed into a tight line. “So no power?” She asked.

“None,” he grumbled. “The water should still work, and the gas is fine so we shouldn’t freeze to death.” He turned his head, expecting her to lay her head on his chest. She still didn’t move towards him. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked. 

“Thinking,” Sansa muttered, chewing on her nails. “All these things that keep happening, what they could mean.”

Sandor rolled onto his side and reached out to her, petting her hair and stroking her cheek.

“I can only be pulled from the fire so many times before I start to wonder if it’s me,” she croaked, tucking her chin against her chest. 

“It’s not,” he growled at her.

“I’m the common denominator,” she hissed. 

Sandor pulled her into his arms and held her fast. Her small hands pressed against his chest, her cheek on his neck. “Don’t blame yourself,” he snarled. “Not in front of me.”

She sighed, her breath on his neck. She smiled again, taking his embrace and melting into it. “I keep finding myself in the middle of these messes. I can’t help but think they’re my fault when the trail leads to me.”

“That is what assholes do,” Sandor snarled. “They make a mess of everything and then pass the blame onto someone, usually someone innocent.”

Sansa pushed him away and sat up, tucking her knees to her chest and holding them. “I should tell you something,” she muttered.

Sandor sat up, looking over her. She looked pale and small. Her expression reading like someone before the executioner. “Sansa-”

“No I…” she smiled at him. “I want to tell you because I know you’ll understand.” She turned towards him. “I think back on those days and I just see this stupid, stupid girl,” she scoffed, a sound like her heart shattering. “I want to yell at myself and tell myself to open my eyes and ears. But that’s who I was, young and naive and….” she bit her lip, closing her eyes, “so fucking desperate to be loved,” she spit. 

She cleared her throat. “I met Joffrey when I was young, our fathers were friends, we had known each other most of our lives. Puppy love and all those silly things childhood has. In high school, we made it official. He loved me and I loved him. Well…” she scoffed, “that was what he told me.” She shifted, moving her legs out. 

“We eloped,” she finally spit out, her hands grasping tightly together. “I thought it was all...so romantic and meant to be. We got married and we were going to run away together...but it…” her voice hitched. “I knew he was prone to anger,” she muttered. “He had a temper and was so used to having his way. I...I often gave in to him because I just didn’t want him mad at me,” her voice trembled and she pulled her knees back up, hiding her face there. “I realize now he just wanted to own me. To keep me tied down so I couldn’t run away from him. I was property to him,” she whimpered.

“We ran away all right,” she hiccuped. “We broke into his father’s summer home and he held me prisoner there. And he-” her voice choked off, she raised her head and wiped the tears away. “I thought because we were married...I couldn’t say no,” she swallowed,throat tight. “And when I tried once to say it, he saw I received a fit punishment.”

“Sansa,” Sandor snarled.

She held up her hand. “Luckily they found us, I was taken home. Baelish protected me and he fought hard. But because of who Joffrey was...who his family was, everything was wiped under the table. Baelish was able to grant me safety and he was able to get the marriage annulled but...Joffrey got away.”

“I know,” Sandor murmured.

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. “You knew? How?”

“Baelish hired me, the first job he ever gave me, to find you,” Sandor wiped her cheeks, her eyes. He used the hem of his shirt to wipe the snot from her nose. “You locked yourself in the bathroom and wouldn’t let anyone in, I had to kick the door down and I carried you out to your mother and father. You were so small like you had the bones of a bird.”

“I…” Sansa covered her mouth and she fell back. “It was you-” she gasped. “I thought it was my father but-”

“I didn’t realize who you were when I first met you. It took me a long time to fit the pieces together. I didn’t feel it was my place to say anything.”

“Oh my god,” Sansa whispered. “It was you.”

“I would never have guessed that shivering, frightened little girl would grow up and become such a woman,” he murmured. “You were broken and you somehow made yourself into steel.”

Sansa sniffled and covered her face, sobbing into her palms. He pulled her into his arms again, holding her as she cried. He pet her back and hair, squeezing her. 

She sniffled as she stopped, clinging to him, her forehead pressed to his chest. “No wonder I felt safe when I first met you. I always thought it was so strange I wanted to reach out to you, but now it makes sense.” She lifted her head and smiled at him. “I really have no idea what to say,” she sighed as she caught her breath.

“You say nothing,” Sandor cupped her cheek. “There’s nothing left to be said. I don’t want any thanks, and I don’t want you crying again about how I’m some bleeding heart knight. You’re here. You’re well. That’s all fine enough for me.”

Sansa chuckled, nuzzling into his palm. “I knew you’d say that.”

Sandor dipped his head, kissing her. She sighed as he did, her fingers grasping at the collar of his shirt. 

He cleared his throat. “I’ll make us something to eat,” he replied. “Then...if you want we can go take Lady out into the snow.”

Sansa nodded, “that sounds great. But...I’m not too hungry right now. Could you make some coffee?”

“Coffee pot won’t work,” he moved to the edge of the bed, reaching under for his leg. “But, if you feel like it, I’ll show you the camping way to do it.”

Sansa came up beside him, watching as he pulled his pants leg up. He glanced over at her, clearing his throat. “What?” He coughed.

“That looks old,” she said to his prosthetic. “It doesn’t look like it would be much comfortable.”

“It isn’t,” Sandor grumbled, still waiting until she looked away to fasten it. “The new one should be in soon. I just keep this one for emergencies, and thank god I did.” 

“Willas said he tried to pick up the pieces, but it was beyond repair,” Sansa murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Sorry, it got ruined.”

He swallowed, his throat bone dry. “It’s none of your concern. I handle myself fine.”

Sansa slid her legs off the side of the bed. “If it’s too uncomfortable today, I don’t mind laying down all day,” she purred into his ear. She stood up and stretched, his shirt she wore rising up over her thighs, her bottom peeking out from underneath. 

“Oh now that’s just not fair,” he growled, half angry, all hungry.

Sansa peeked over her shoulder and smirked. “I’ll be right back, just going to powder my nose,” she winked at him as she walked into the bathroom.

He huffed, shaking his head as his tried to clear his mind. He put his prosthetic into place then left to the kitchen. Lady was still on the couch, her head resting on the arm. She watched him as he came out and her tail began thumping on the back.

“Yes, yes, good morning girl,” he yawned. 

In the kitchen, he took out a pot and the coffee. He then took a filter and filled it with grounds and tied it with string. Sansa walked in as the water was beginning to boil. She hopped up onto the counter, watching as he dropped the packet into the water.

“Will it be any good?” She asked.

“Probably not,” he glanced over at her. “Since you mentioned Willas,” he started.

Sansa scoffed. “Oh god, what?” 

Sandor looked back to the pot. “Nothing. He’s a good man.”

Sansa nodded, “he is,” she raised her leg, her foot rubbing up his leg and side. “We dated for a while,” she explained. “Not long after I met Margaery she introduced us. I attended a few of his support groups. We dated. That was it.”

Sandor scoffed.

Sansa pinched his arm. “Yes, he was the first man I dated after everything I went through. He was kind and gentle, supportive and understanding.”

“And handsome. And wealthy. And perfect.”

“And boring!” Sansa snapped. “He’s a wonderful person, but dating Willas was like wading in waist deep warm water.” She slipped her fingers up under his shirt, feeling his skin and fur. “It was nice, it helped me heal. But he’s not what I really need. Nothing of what I want.”

“Should be ready,” Sandor turned the eye off.

“Were you jealous?” She asked,hand snaking further up his shirt.

“There’s milk in the fridge, sugar just above you in the cabinet.”

Her fingers rippled along his ribs. “Kiss me,” she commanded in a whisper.

Sandor slammed the pot down a little harshly and he pushed himself against her, obeying the master’s command. Her hands gripped onto his chest, her legs wrapping around his hips. She had used his toothpaste, her mouth tasting of it. He gripped her hip, his hand pushing back the shirt and moving up underneath. Her stomach fluttering as he touched.

Lady barked and they jumped, Sandor turning around to see her staring at them. He scoffed and Sansa giggle, covering her face with her hands. “I’ll just have my coffee black,thanks,” she purred, petting Sandor’s shoulder.

Sandor snarled, diving back in and kissing her neck and biting her shoulder. When she moaned out he pulled away with a laugh. “Since when do you take it black?”

“Fuck if I can remember now,” she fanned herself. She eyed him as he poured her cup. “You always do that,” she reached out for the cup as he turned.

“Do what?”

“Pull away,” she murmured as she blew into the pitch brew. “Always gone by the point of no return.” She took a sip of the coffee.

Sandor was silent, which she expected. He poured his own coffee,taking it black just like her. He stood away from her, at the opposite end of the kitchen from her and leaned on the cabinet. He drank and Sansa frowned.

“Is it-” Sansa murmured.

“It’s not,” Sandor growled in response, quickly shutting off any self-doubting notion in her head. “Nothing to do with you.” He added as he sighed, shoulders feeling heavy.

Sansa bit her lip. “You’re hard to read,” she admitted. “Sometimes I don’t know how to move around you.”

He scoffed. “You move around me just fine it seems,” he then shook his head. “I’m the one who doesn’t know how to move.”

Sansa released her lip and her eyes widened a bit.

“You’re the first good thing to walk into my life, little bird,” he touched the burnt edge of his jaw and pulled his hand away. “I don’t know how to keep good things in my life. They all usually go away so I make them go away before they find out.”

“Find out what?”

“What I am.”

Sansa slipped off the counter and Sandor was sure she was going to walk away. He hung his head and in the next moment her hand was on his arm. Her fingers brushed down and took his hand, squeezing it tight. She brought it up and kissed his knuckles.

“I want to know who Sandor Clegane is,” she pressed his palm against her cheek. “I owe him that much kindness.”

He squeezed her cheek with a soft touch then pulled his hand away. “You owe me nothing.”

“I do,” she corrected, catching his hand and holding it again. “There is nothing to be done today. We are snowed in and I do not want to be alone. I want you.”

“Want me,” Sandor scoffed, rolling his eyes. “My story isn’t a pretty one,” he admitted in a grumble. “And there isn’t a happy ending like yours.”

Sansa took a deep breath. “I want to hear it,” she smiled for him. “I care about you.”  
“I killed my brother,” the words escaped. The dark things coming free for the last person he ever wanted to hear them. “And I do not regret it.”

Sansa’s lips parted, eyes wide and skin as pale as death. Her grip was faint yet remained in his grasp. “Was...was there a reason?” She was breathless.

“Look at my face,” he commanded. “Look at it!”

Her wide, blue eyes stared up at him, granting him a small nod. She removed her hand and placed it on his melted cheek, her fingers brushing under his blind eye.

“This wasn’t the first of his many fits of abuse,” he snarled, leaning heavily against the cabinet. “He gave me these, and as I healed all I heard was his laughter. No matter who spoke to me it was his laughing I heard,” He swallowed.   
“After I got out of the hospital my mother was gone. I don’t know what became of her or my baby sister,” tears began to come to his eyes but he looked away from Sansa as she tried to reach for him. “She was so small, and he had broken her arm before so-” he shook his head. “My father was a weak man, he had no chance against someone like my brother. We suffered. Not that I didn’t have my own anger that I dealt out. I wasn’t a good son either, mind you,” his tone bitter. 

“Sandor-” her voice choked off.

“I tried to run away one night, I was sixteen. I told dad I would try and come for him if I could, but dad went to told him. Told him my plan and everything. So...he made sure I couldn’t run.”He swallowed, slowly slipping to the floor. He pulled up his pants leg and let Sansa see the prosthetic. 

“This time, when I got out of the hospital...dad was gone. I knew what happened to him, though,” he choked. “So I set the house on fire and sealed him in.”

Sansa’s eyes grew wide, her jaw went slack.

“I let him burn alive like he did me. The world is better off without him.”

Sansa's throat was tight and she was holding back her tears. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, touching his leg.

“You’re apologizing,” he scoffed, wiping his face. “Fuck,” he snarled. 

She put her hand against his neck. “I understand,” she cooed. “I...I can’t imagine what pain you suffered but...I know how it feels. The hatred. The yearning for divine retribution...I’m sorry it was your hand that had to deal it but…”

“I’m a killer, Sansa,” he snarled at her. “It’s fine to admit you’re afraid of me now. You don’t have to stay. You don’t need to act.”

“To be honest,” Sansa forced a chuckle, “I’m not sure how I feel.” She sat down beside him and put her head on his shoulder. “I’m staying for you.”

Sandor scoffed, covering a sniffle. He wiped at his face again.

Sansa held his hand, squeezing again as she leaned against him.

“Now what?” Sandor muttered, uncomfortable with silence for the first time in his life.

She lifted her head and looked up at him. “Why don’t we go upstairs and we can take a nice hot bath.” She stood up and held her hand out to him. “It’ll be nice.”

Sandor sighed, taking her hand and lifting himself up with her help. “Whatever you say.”

It was dark in her tiny bathroom and she could barely see Sandor’s outline. As the tub began to fill up and undressed, stepping from the shirt she had worn in his place and pulling down her panties. She moved to cover herself but stopped, her heart pounding hard in her chest. She reached out for him, feeling his bare chest and waist.

“Go ahead,” she whispered, unsure why she was being so quiet. “Get in.” She pushed him towards the tub and heard him slosh into the water as he eased in.

She sat on the edge of the tub and looked at his face. His head was slightly turned, the light catching on his throat as it fluttered. She eased into the water, sitting in his lap and laying her back against his chest. She sighed and his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“See, it’s nice,” she nuzzled against his bicep.

“Yes,” he swallowed. 

Sansa moved her hand down, cautious and slow as she dipped her fingers into the water and touched his thigh. She felt him flinch as she pet down until it ended. She rested her hand there and placed a gentle pressure there.

“Do you still want me?” He snarled close to her ear, kissing her ear through her hair.

Sansa took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes,” she answered.


	11. Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Sandor get much closer.

“So did anything happen?” Margaery gasped as she nearly leaned over the entire length of the table.

Sansa looked up from her bowl of soup at Margaery’s great big eyes staring her down, waiting for any juicy morsel she was going to offer. Sansa cleared her throat and placed her spoon down away from her mouth. 

“I already told you a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Margaery plopped back down into the chair with a huff. “That’s not the stuff I wanted to know about.”

“Me and him finally being open enough to share our dark shit isn’t good enough for you?”

Margaery crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “You find out he’s been your fucking white knight since the beginning of time, you’re trapped during a snowstorm, powers out, you’re sharing a bathtub. Yeah, not a satisfying ending for me.”

Sansa’s cheeks bloomed bright red and she bit into her slab of garlic bread.

Margaery’s scowl faded and her eyes perked back up, lips parting as she watched Sansa’s face. She scooted around the table and sat directly next to Sansa, grabbing her arm. “Something else DID happen, right?” She squeezed hard on Sansa’s bicep.

“You’re hurting me!” Sansa said, muffled by the bread.

“You gotta give me something!” Margaery whined, bouncing in her chair. “I need this!”

“You need this?” Sansa set her bread down.

Margaery glanced around the cafeteria and then leaned in close. “It’s been six months for me,” she snarled with a whisper. “Six months so I could stay focused and assure my chance of becoming valedictorian over that Targareyan girl.”

“You never told me that,” Sansa tried to keep herself from laughing.

“That’s why you owe me!” Margaery whimpered as she leaned herself into Sansa. “Give me anything at all! At least some suggestion you finally got to see more than just his hairy chest. Did he see your hairy chest?”

Sansa slapped her hand and pushed her away. “Yes, he saw my chest. We were in a bath together!” She screwed her mouth up in a tight line, heart pounding with the memory, cheeks flushed a darker shade.

“He asked you ‘do you still want me’,” she said,puffing up her chest and mimicking Sandor’s raspy growl. “You replied ‘yes, now take me and assure I walk bow-legged for days’,” she whispered in a Marilyn Monroe type voice.

Sansa shoved her again. “I didn’t say that! Nor do I sound like that.”

“Then what?”

Sansa huffed and leaned in close, holding up three fingers. “Genie rules, three questions. That’s it.”

Margaery giggled and she pulled back, thinking for a moment. “How was foreplay initiated?”

Sansa should’ve known better, Margaery knew how to ask a question to get the optimum answer. She sighed and fidgeted in her seat. “It started in the bath,” she grumbled. “I took his hand and made him touch me in places.”

Margaery squealed. “Having sex in water is dumb, I’ve told you this. When you got out of the bathroom-”

“We didn’t-” Sansa cleared her throat and quieted herself, “we didn’t leave the bathroom,” she growled through gnashed teeth.

Margaery’s eyes lit up and her mouth open. “I still have two! You gave that freely.”

Sansa mumbled and cussed under her breath at Margaery.

“So, since you didn’t leave the bathroom,” she wriggled with glee, “what positions did you use?” She smirked, leaning her elbows on the table as she waited for the answer.

“I…” Sansa blushed. “He set me on the counter-”

Margaery squealed.

“He set me on the counter,” Sansa continued, “and he...I’ve never had anyone do this to me before, but he used his mouth-”

Margaery gasped and grabbed Sansa’s wrist. “You did cum, right?” She asked,her final question.

Sansa finally smiled, her chest feeling light and warm. She nodded, “a lot.”

Margaery sighed, “oh good.”

Sansa nodded and her smile grew. “I’ve not felt so good in so long, and he just...wow.” She giggled.

“You have to give me more than three! That wasn’t enough.”

Sansa rolled her eyes.

“If you can’t talk to me about it who can you talk to?”

Sansa sighed, feeling a bit more comfortable with talking about it. “He was...gentle,” she murmured. “And I mean...not gentle like Willas but like...worshipping almost. He was so attentive and warm and just-” she shuddered at the thought. “It makes me want to go home and just rip his clothes off right now.”

Margaery bit her lip. “Damn.”

“I can still feel the cold bathroom floor on my back,” she sighed. “His warm hands on mine-” Margaery stopped her, clapping her hand over her mouth.

“If you continue I’m going to have to make a booty call.”

Sansa’s eyes widened a bit. “I thought you and Bronn-”

“Hush!” She hissed. “I did cut it off, but-”

Sansa laughed and covered her mouth. “You still call him, though?”

Margaery grumbled and snarled under her breath. “I know, I know,” she huffed. “Not all of us are lucky enough to have a smoking hot neighbor. Some of us have to settle for the janitor at the office,” she palmed her forehead and groaned.

Sansa smirked and checked her phone for the time. “I should get going,” she said, standing up and gathering her things. 

Margaery lifted her head. “You don’t have another class for an hour. Where are you going?”

“I wanted to study a little bit while the library is empty,” Sansa answered. 

Margaery sniffed, “oh fine.” She stood up. “I promised Mr.Lannister I’d check some old records here on campus anyways. I’ll see you later.”

Sansa waved and made her way across campus, heading towards the library. It was quiet and empty, only a few people lingering about. She sat down at a table near the back, one she had been using since she was a freshman. She cracked open her books and started going over them, checking over her notes and writing them down again to help her memorization. 

Her mind wandered, though, her talk with Margaery bringing back the vivid sensations and memories of that snow day. Her lips parted, remembering Sandor’s lips on her neck, his hand palming her chest.

Her nipples began to stiffen under her bra. She licked her lips and made herself concentrate on her studying. It didn’t work, her mind going back to when he lifted her out of the tub and set her on the counter by the sink. Her back pressed against the cold wall. His hands were so warm and big, petting down her sides and opening up her thighs, tugging them forward.

In the darkness, she couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel them, hot amongst all the cold. She felt his breath on her thigh, his lips kissing upward. His hand reached up, and grasped under her chin, his fingers brushing against her lips. She felt him kiss more, over her mound and then down. His breath on her slit, his tongue...oh god his tongue.

Someone coughed loudly. 

Sansa snapped her head up at the sound, her knees pinched together. She looked around the library. Her face was boiling hot and she had worked herself up into an excited ache.

She palmed her phone for a moment, trying to decide what to do. She ducked her head back down and tried to will away the slickness that was now between her legs. Sandor had lapped her up, growling and purring how good she tasted.

“Stop it,” Sansa commanded herself and she pinched her cheek. “You have to focus. You’re at school. You have finals to worry about.”

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, a class alert. Her next class was canceled, the professor was still snowed in. Sansa swallowed, throat dry.

“Oh well...I guess more study time,” she mumbled to herself. 

The ache wasn’t going away if anything it was growing. Her need suddenly awakened by Sandor and his big hands and skilled tongue. She let herself drift again to the bathroom where the silence she had tried to keep was broken by her own pants and moans. Her fingers tangled in Sandor’s long hair and her hips began to tremble, her toes curl and clench.

The first orgasm made her shudder and moan, nearly singing. A chorus of ‘oh god’ and verses of ‘Sandor, please’. She went limp for a moment, his tongue lapping her up and cleaning her excited mess. He chuckled as he rose up.

“I want to hear that song again,” he growled against her throat, biting her.

“Please,” Sansa gasped, wrapping her legs around him.

The next thing she remembered was the cold floor on her back, his hard, warm body pressed against her.

Her phone buzzed again and she jumped in her seat. 

Another text, this time from Margaery.

“Several classes are canceled. One happens to be mine. If you want a ride home, meet me in the parking lot.”

“Oh thank god!” Sansa gathered her things in a mad rush and raced to the parking lot, managing to palm a text as she went.

Sandor was in her apartment, installing new locks on her door. Lady was sitting beside him, guarding it seemed while the door was being fixed.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he cussed, thinking perhaps it was Baelish. He got a nice surprise though seeing her name appear. 

“I’m coming home a bit early. Let’s hang out before I have to go to work.”

He bit his lip and sent a reply. “I’m fixing your door.”

Lady sniffed at him and he shrugged. “What else should I say? The brunette could be around her.” He returned to his work on the door. Flashes of that day going through his mind. Sansa’s soft thighs, the way she tasted on his lips, how her pleasured voice cried out his name.

“Sandor, please,” her fingers tightened in his hair. “Sando,please...oh god, oh god,” she could feel her trembled all around him, her body letting go and giving in to him. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet as she did in that moment, no song had ever sounded so true. 

He kissed her and bit her where his mouth could reach, hearing her beg for more. She didn’t need to beg, he was the one inches away from begging. He lifted her up and set her on the floor, opening her legs again he rubbed his finger to the folds her just kissed, feeling she was already slick and wet again.

Lady barked and he was pulled away from inside his head. He looked outside, making sure she wasn’t barking at just anything. He saw the car and saw her step out. She dropped her books and scrambled to pick them up.

He stood in the doorway, realizing then he was already hard.

Sansa beamed when she saw him and she tried to keep herself from running to him. “Hi,” she was. Breathless and excited.

“Welcome home,” he let her in and had barely enough time to close the door before she was on him, kissing him and pushing her hands up his shirt.

“Whoa,whoa,” he laughed, kissing her back and pushing her away a bit. “Let me finish this door,” he growled, kissing her neck and squeezing her rear. “Just a little left to do. Go wait on me.”

Sansa whined but nodded. “Hurry up,” she murmured against his throat. 

Sandor chuckled and returned to his work while Sansa gathered her things back up she had thrown aside while trying to paw at Sandor. “Sorry, I just…” she chuckled, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

He laughed, “I think I know.”

Sansa stripped off her coat. “I tried to study but my mind wandered.”

Sandor bit back a smirk. “Oh? Too bad.” He glanced at her for a moment. “Why didn’t you drive your car?” He asked. “Why are you still carpooling with the brunette?”

Sansa shrugged, “I just like it,” she murmured. “I dunno, I feel safer when I have someone around.” She put her hands on his back, rubbing. “Almost done?”

“Don’t rush,” he laughed. “Now go on, the more you’re around me the slower it’ll take.”

She kissed his neck and pulled away from him. “I’ll be in my bedroom,” she said and he listened to her walk down the hallway. 

He shuddered and set to work, finishing replacing the door knob as well as adding in a new lock. Once he was done, he washed his hands and he stood there for a moment. The weight of the situation settled on his shoulders and he stood in awe. That day in the bathroom felt like a dream, something strange that he had conjured in his mind. This felt real. The beautiful girl, her eager touches, her soft lips leaving red lipstick all over his neck and jaw. 

He walked into the doorway of her bedroom. She was sitting on her bed in just a t-shirt, her hair stilled pulled up in a bun. Her knees were close to her chest as she read. She glanced up at him and smiled, setting her book aside and stretching out those long legs.

“Done?” She asked.

He sat down on the bed beside her and she reached up, giggling as she wiped at the lipstick she had left all over him. “All done,” he growled, kissing her as her lips parted.

A phone began ringing behind him.

“Uh-wait, wait,” Sansa moaned as he kissed down her neck.

“Ignore it,” he snarled.

“It...it could be important. I’m waiting to hear about ah-” she moaned as his hands pushed up her shirt, his lips on her bare chest.

She managed to reach around him and take her phone. He pushed her down onto her back as she answered. “He-hello?” She tried to calm herself,pushing against his head as he took a plump nipple between his lips. “Mnh-oh! Mr. Lannister,” she said that out loud for Sandor’s benefit. She pushed against his head, but he bit down gently and she melted.

“Yes,” she tried to keep her cool. “The files should be on my desk. If not there then-” Sandor kissed down her stomach, his fingers kneading between her legs.

“Stop it!” She hissed down at him, her hand over the receiver. “Oh what, sir?” She gasped, removing her hand. “Oh, right. No, no I got off school early today so I’m just-” Sandor’s fingers were under her panties now, rubbing her slick folds. “Just...trying to get some chores done.” She kicked his shoulder, her foot on his cheek. But it only made him laugh.

“Yes, no worries, I’ll be in today,” her jaw suddenly went slack as he pushed a finger inside, she almost couldn’t keep herself quiet. “Yes!” She yelped rather loudly. “Oh no! Just saw it spider! Ha ha uhm…” her back arched as Sandor’s fingers moved, one inside her, another gently thrumming at her clit. “I’ll see you this evening sir, yes...yes...yes,” she didn’t mean to keep repeating, it was just she could feel her stomach clench, her mind go to static. “Yes...oh sorry,” she swallowed hard and tried to recover, but Sandor’s constant teasing was driving her over the edge.

“This evening then. Bye,” she dropped her phone and clinched to the sheets. “Oh fuck!” She pant, rolling her hips to meet his touches. “

“Good conversation?” Sandor chuckled.

“You’re a bastard,” Sansa moaned.

Sandor pushed her thighs back open, kneeling at the edge of the bed he dove in again, his tongue against her slit and circling around her swole clit. 

“Sandor,” she pant, her thighs pinching around his ears.

His finger still moved inside her, feeling her tighten as her climax began to build. He suckled and kissed, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow, her fingers in his hair again. She cried out, this time barely able to form words as she fell apart in his hands.

He growled as he licked her clean, smirking as he crawled back on top of her, kissing her and letting her bathe in the afterglow.

“Take your fucking clothes off,” she murmured, tugging at his shirt.

“So demanding,” he snarled.

She pulled his shirt off and kissed his chest, the love bruises she had left behind in the bathroom still on his shoulder and chest. Her hands clawed down his wall of a chest, undoing his pants and pushing them down enough.

She pulled out what she wanted with her hand, feeling his heat directly against her. She felt him shudder, his breath catch as she pawed at his length, wrapped her cool fingers around his hot girth. She bit her lip, excited that it wasn’t all a dream. His cock was as nice and big as she remembered.

She guided him between her legs,one wrapping around his hips and urging him close. His cock slid against her slick opening, coating itself in her want. Sansa peeked down between them, watching as his cock rutted against her mound. 

She lifted her eyes back up, cupping the back of his head and bringing him down for a kiss. She raised her hips as he pulled his back. The head pushed against her, slowly easing inside.

Her lips parted against his kiss, a silent moan of pleasure as he entered. He felt so good inside, his thick cock stretching her open, making her shudder with pleasure and a small ache that even felt good. What felt best though was when he was finally tucked all the way inside and she was completely filled with him. She had never felt such a deep, satisfying sensation before in her life.

She giggled with delight as she squeezed around him, feeling him throb deep within her. She opened her eyes and bit his lip, tugging. His gray eye searched for permission, waiting for the master’s command.

Sansa thought for a moment, lips parting before she moved him. She pushed him down, rolling him onto his back, his jeans around his thighs. She crawled on top of him, allowing him to see her in the light unlike before. She straddled him, going through the motions again of having him push inside. This time, it was under her control.

She guided his hands to her hips as she slowly eased down then pulled back up, teasing him as well as herself. She bit her lip, watching him as he watched her. She eased down again and felt his hands squeeze on her, the sign he couldn’t take it anymore. She took him all the way in again, moaning out. It felt so good, so right. She rolled her hips and his lips parted, his back arching. She moved up again and felt his hands grasp her, tugging her back down hard.

“Ah!” She couldn’t help but cry out.

He began moving under her, his hands working her, making her move and bounce. She clutched to his shoulders as he bucked and rutted under her. She had wanted to take control but she ended up giving it to him so easily. It felt good to be in his hands.

Her arms trembled as she felt another orgasm build. She bucked, rolling her hips, feeling him hit that place inside her that made her head go white and hot. He let out a choked cry, his fingers digging into her flesh, he pressed in deep and she felt him surge inside. She cried out his name, over and over, feeling him move inside as she quickened around him. 

She lifted her head from his chest and stretched, falling off him onto the mattress beside him. She sighed, feeling heavenly.

“I’ll never get married now,” he teased as he rolled onto his side and kissed her. “Now that you’ve sullied my good reputation.”

Sansa giggled, kissing him and then smudging the lipstick on his cheek. “Keep up that good of work and I won’t be able to focus on my schoolwork at all,” she cooed.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’ll get bored of me eventually.”

Sansa rubbed her hand down his chest and stomach. “Don’t say that,” she frowned. She braced herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. “I’m not going anywhere, at least not without you.”  
He looked up at her, a look of awe in his eyes. “Fuck...you’re beautiful.”

Sansa blushed, touching her cheek and looking away. “Make makeup is all smudged and my hair is a bird’s nest.”

“You’re beautiful,” he pulled her back down on him and kissed her.

“Mm!” Sansa pushed back on him. “You’ll get me all revved up again and I have to go to work,” she whined. She kissed him again, letting him touch her bare skin as he pleased.

“Fuck work,” Sandor snarled. “Stay home,” he squeezes her ass. “We’ll order in for food and I’ll make you sing all night.”

Sansa swallowed hard, wanting to say yes but knowing she needed to tell him no. “D-don’t tempt me. I have to go,” his lips on her throat made her head start to go fuzzy. “Busy...season.” She gripped onto his chest. 

She then shoved him away and managed to wriggle free. 

He whined and rolled over, watching her as she wiped the makeup from her face in the mirror. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair and out of his face. “What time will you get home?”  
Sansa turned and looked at him over her shoulder. “Do you have work this evening?” She asked. She stood up and went to her dresser, pulling out underwear.

“If you’re busy, I’m busy.”

Sansa bit her lip, struggling with if she should stay or go. “Shouldn’t you be trying to sleep?” She queried to try and stall.

“I don’t want to sleep,” he snarled.

Sansa met his eyes and she melted a little. She wondered if this was just the start of an addiction. With all the shit going on in her life, she thought, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to indulge a little bit in something good.

She picked up her phone and sent a quick text to Margaery to cover for her. “I can be a little late,” she crawled back into the bed with him. “This is a one-time thing, though.”

 

She was rubbing his back when her phone rang. “Mm, it’s Margaery,” she murmured. “Work must be bad,” she answered the phone. “I’m getting ready, don’t worry I’ll be-Bronn?” she stopped, her hand pulling away from Sandor’s shoulder. She slipped off him and he turned, seeing her face was pale and her eyes wide.

“Bronn...Bronn slow down-” she stopped and covered her mouth. “Oh god...yes I’m on my way!” She dropped her phone and grabbed at the nearest clothes.

“What’s wrong?” Sandor growled.

“Margaery was shot outside the office!” Sansa gasped, tears beginning to come to her eyes. “This is all my fault!” She rushed through packing her purse.

“Hey,” Sandor grabbed her. “Calm down a second,” he snarled. “You won’t do her any good in this state.”

“I should’ve gone to work!” Sansa gasped. “Oh my god-” she held her face in her hands.

“It’s not your fault,” Sandor snarled, giving her a small jolt. “Whoever shot her is at fault. Whoever had Margaery step aside for whatever reason isn’t to blame.”

“I should’ve gone to work,” Sansa gasped.

“Let me get dressed and I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Sansa nodded, wiping at her face. She was glad he was there, she felt safe with him. She still felt to blame. Margaery didn’t deserve this, she didn’t deserve it when all Sansa was doing was having one more quickie before work.

Sandor took her keys and took the driver seat of her borrowed car. At the hospital Sansa saw Tyrion and Baelish in the lobby, Bronn was also there, the front of his shirt covered in blood. Right behind them Loras came rushing in with Willas trailing behind them. Loras went to the front desk, banging on it, demanding for Margaery.

“What happened?” Sansa asked, Tyrion the first to meet her.

Tyrion huffed, shaking his head. “Margaery was going outside, I think she said she left something in her car. The next thing I know I hear the shot.”

“We have the footage of what happened,” Baelish came up behind Tyrion. “It’s being sent off to the proper authorities.”

“Did anyone see anything? Was she alone?” Sansa gasped, Willas put his hand on her shoulder.

“Let me go see if they’ll tell me anything,” he replied. “Maybe since I’m family they’ll let me back to see her.”

“I was outside smoking,” Bronn said. “I watched her go to her car and I saw someone come from around the back...I couldn’t do anything. I was too far away. When he realized I was running up on him that’s when he shot…” His voice choked off.

“You probably saved her life by being there,” Tyrion tried to coax. “This is all a fucking mess.”

“We have evidence,” Baelish replied. “We have everything we need in order to get this taken care of and-”

“A girl’s life is in jeopardy and all you can think of is evidence?” Tyrion snapped at him.

Willas came back up. “They’re allowing us to see Margaery. She’s fine,” he assured. “Luckily it was just a shot in the arm. They said she has some bruises on her knuckles and a cut on her knee, so she put up a fight with whoever ambushed her.”

Sansa slouched in relief, “oh thank god.”

“I’ll be back and let you know how he’s doing,” Willas said as a nurse fetched him.

Sansa collapsed into a chair and held her head in her hands. Sandor sat beside her, his hand on her back. “It wasn’t your fault. She was just going to her car.”

Sansa sniffled. “I’m so relieved,” she hiccuped. “She’s ok but it’s just…” she shook her head. “All these things just keep happening around me! I can’t tell what’s happening.”

Sandor wrapped his arm around her and let her cry into his chest.

Baelish left not long after, going to deal with the authorities and go over the footage they had. Tyrion brought them all coffee and snacks. He insisted Bronn go home and change but he wasn’t having any of it.

“You’re covered in blood and freaking people out, go change.” Tyrion insisted.

“Here,” Sandor took off his jacket. “Take this.”

Bronn nodded, taking the offer and covering his blood stained clothes with it. “Right, thanks,” he looked over Sandor and at Sansa. “Margaery said you two were an odd couple but I had no idea.”

Sansa laughed, small and weak. “She said that? To you?”

He shrugged. “She just said you were happy. Said you looked like mismatched salt and pepper shakers, but you were happy.”

Sansa wiped her eyes. “Thanks,” she murmured.


	12. Headache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wakes up from a hangover.

It was the smell of bacon and coffee that made her stir, but it was the hangover that woke her. She cussed in cotton-mouthed garble as she put her hand over her eyes and shielded them as she peeled them open. The room was surprisingly dark, unlike her room that was all sheer white curtains and silver light in the morning.

She remembered the previous evening barely, if not at all. She remembered Margery screaming from a hospital bed, pissed and livid before the painkillers kicked in and she went gooey and sleepy. She remembered walking out of the hospital but not much of what happened between then and now. She wanted water now, a cold shower, and to brush her teeth.

She sat up and groaned, realizing she was naked save for a pair of boxer briefs. She grumbled, and looked them over. “I need new underwear,” she sighed as she pushed her hair away from her face, her braid still in place but matted and rough from sleeping on it. She tugged it apart,brushing it with her fingers as well as she could. 

“Where’s my clothes?” She fumbled as she looked around the dark room.

She remembered briefly, the bright fluorescent lights. The sort of second-hand smoke smell mixed with the antiseptic scent of floor cleaner. A hand appeared in her memory. A big, hairy hand that looked well worn and in a devious way very sexy, it grabbed a bottle of something and handed it to her. 

She stepped out into the hallway and suddenly realized where she was. Lady was on the sofa, lounging and bathing in the scent of the bacon, knowing her time was coming. She saw the bottles on the coffee table and the mess that had been left behind. Her cottonmouth explained by a quarter-full, for lack of a better word, a jug of whiskey.

She clutched the boxer briefs to keep them from falling off and she continued searching for her clothes. She found her bra underneath Lady’s head. A sock that was pulled over an empty bottle. 

“Jesus,” Sansa grumbled as she took a throw blanket and wrapped it around herself. It was awful, scratchy and stiff and heavy. Why did he own such a thing? She thought as she came out of the living room and to the kitchen.

 

She then saw him, shirtless and in tight boxer briefs. Her eyes perused him. “Not bad,” she thought. “He’s got nice thighs, good ass.” Her eyes trailed up more, his back broad and muscular. Her hungover mind making her check him out like the first time she had seen him. She then saw his prosthetic leg, the first time she had actually seen him standing with it exposed. She saw the huge scar that went up the back of his thigh. Tears prickled at her eyes in her weak state.

He turned, placing bacon on a plate lined with napkins. His long dark hair covering most of his face. She checked his hands, making sure they were the ones she was recalling. And yes, they were. Huge mitts of fur and muscle. She remembered how they felt on her cheek, her back, her knee. She remembered kissing him that night, tasting the whiskey on his tongue, the flavor of her own drink mixing in. His hands gently pushing her back.

“Uhm-” She started.

He turned and looked at her, his hand pushing his hair away from his face. “You up?”

She looked down, nervous. “I have a headache,” she answered. She glanced up slowly, going from toe to top again. “Still good thighs,” she bit her lip, wondering why she was sizing him up like it was the first time. His stomach was hard and had a trail of pitch fur that grew into a nice pelt across his strong chest. He had thick stubble, she felt like a weak little school girl.

“I told you that you would,” he growled to her as she washed his hands. “But you insisted you were fine.”   
“Scold me when I feel better,” she pouted pitifully.

“I’ll get you some aspirin.” He turned the stove off then motioned to the stools around the bar that served as his table. “That’s a rug you’re wearing, you realize that?” He teased as he went passed.

She took a seat and held her head, rubbing her temples as he came back. He poured a glass of water and set the pills and it on the table. He took the rug she had wrapped around herself and replaced it with a shirt that felt cool against her skin as he slipped it over her.

“Thank you,” she looked up at him. “I’m sorry I-”

He chuckled, smirking down at her. “Don’t remember?”

She blushed, lips parting slightly as she looked away. “No, I-”

He laughed, going back to the stove. “You insisted,” he said as he refilled his cup of coffee. “If you want to blame me, I’m really the victim here.”

Sansa swallowed the pills and gulped the water. She took a breath and looked back at him as he pulled biscuits from the stove. “What happened after we left the hospital?” She grumbled. “Has Margery called at all?”

He poured another mug of coffee and set it before her along with a plate of toast, bacon, and eggs. “It’s fairly early, I doubt she has,” he answered her. 

She frowned up at him. “But what happened afterward?”

He met her eyes. “You drank yourself stupid,” he chuckled. “Do you want me to tell you every embarrassing detail?”

“I embarrassed myself?” She whined, smooshing her cheek against the cool countertop. 

He took a piece of bacon and ate it. “Oh, quite thoroughly.”

He sat beside her at the bar. “You tried to blow me, but it ended there,” he replied. “I stopped you and we made out and you fell asleep.” 

Sansa didn’t believe him, eyeing him as she took a tentative sip of coffee. “That all?”

“You were angry and stressed, I let you drink and relax,” he shrugged. “I didn’t think you would go quite as overboard as you did, but I at least know you aren’t the lightweight I thought.”

Sansa smiled at him and leaned in, kissing him softly. “Is this you trying to take care of me?” She felt better as the water and medicine hit her system. 

“I’m not good at comforting people,” he growled, petting her hair away from her face. “I can at least make sure a girl doesn’t go around with a rug wrapped around herself.”

“I feel like my brain is shut off,” Sansa sighed as she reached for her plate. “I was ogling you like a horny school girl.”

“You aren’t?” He teased.  
“Shh,” she pressed a finger to his lips as she took a bite of toast, testing out her stomach. “When I feel better and can clean up, I want to go visit Margaery,” she murmured.

He nodded. “Eat up.” He motioned to her plate. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t remember last night much at all.” She murmured between bites. “So, I’m sorry if I was a sloppy kisser.”

“What?” He grunted.

She opened her mouth then closing, sighing at the bitter taste the memory left her. “I’ve been told I’m...not the greatest kisser. I guess, it’s kinda late to be telling you this.”

“I’m not the best either. So I have no idea one way or the other. I just know a beautiful redhead is climbing all over me and I’m not going to tell her now.”

Sansa blushed and shook her head. “You’re a great kisser,” she murmured. “I mean, I like it when you do.”

He smirked, “I know,” he responded.

She blushed more, her lips parting as her mind began to swim with memories of his touches and kisses. Her mind then snapped to grim reality. “Was I really climbing?” She flinched.

He shrugged. “A little bit,” he thought again. “Actually a lot.”

Sansa grimaced, “you haven’t told me everything I’ve done have you?”

“I will when I want to,” he grinned wickedly.

Sansa looked up at him and the words came, and before her weak brain could stop them they spilled from her mouth. “I love you.”

Sandor’s wicked smile left and his usually dark, sharp gaze went soft. He touched her cheek and looked at her.

Her heart hammered, he wasn’t saying anything. She shouldn’t have said anything! Was it still too early for that wasn’t it? But she felt that way, didn’t she? She had been falling for him since the first time she saw him. That was during the summer, months ago. Enough time to fall in love. Really, they had been going to slow with this whole thing. Hadn’t they? Why wasn’t he saying anything still?

“I know,” he finally said, ending her panicked thoughts. He kissed her, soft and warm, his hands holding her face and pulling her in close.

“D-don’t Han Solo me,” she sputtered as he pulled back. 

The phone on the counter started ringing and Sandor picked it up, staring in confusion at the unfamiliar number. “Hello?” He answered, his brow furrowed deeper. “Margaery? How did you…” he was stopped and Sansa watched him as his gaze became sharp and fierce again.

“Yes,” Sandor nodded. “We were planning on it. Yes. I’ll let her know.” He hung up the phone and Sansa waited expectantly as he set it aside.

“Why did she call you?” She asked.

“She wants to hire me,” Sandor replied. “She says she has a favor to ask you as well when we visit.”

“Hire you?” Sansa gasped. “You mean...the find the guy who shot her?”

“No,” Sandor growled. “I promised I wouldn’t tell you the details of what she’s hiring me for,” he answered cooly. “She doesn’t want you worrying any more than you already.”

“Oh,” Sansa murmured. “Well, I guess that’s for the best. I’m sure that’s what she wants to talk to me about. Easier to do in person,” she fidgeted with her fingers, twisting them and knotting them in her hair. She wondered if she had made Sandor uncomfortable by blurting out those three words. She hoped he took her with a grain of salt. Wait, she didn’t want him taking her lightly. She didn’t consider what they had something casual. Too much had gone on between them to make it casual. This was definitely not a lighthearted affair! She meant what she said. She would say it again when she felt like it. She wanted to hear it back. She wanted him to purr it into her ear after sex, to wake her up in the morning, when he handed her a cup of coffee.

He pinched the tip of her nose, making her break from her rapid-fire thoughts. “Get out of your head,” his fingers trailed through her hair and freeing from her anxious fingers.

She pouted slightly, “I mean it. Don’t think I’m being silly.” She flipped her hair off her shoulder and tried to play it off.

“You’re going through...a lot of stress, Sansa,” Sandor started. “I would understand if you didn’t say it again once your mind clears-”

She slapped him, gentle, but hard enough for her hand to clap against his cheek. “You stop,” she huffed. “Stop thinking you don’t deserve it,” she grasped his hands. “I knew it...before all this started,” she squeezed hard on his palms. “So accept it,” she released his hands.

“We should get ready to go see Margaery,” she touched her cheek. “I need a shower, my skin feels awful.”   
Sandor grabbed her and pulled her into a kiss. “It looks fine to me.”

She giggled and planted several small kisses on his jaw. “It’ll look even better when I’m so soft and polished,” she nuzzled her cheek into his neck and pulled away. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

“Take your time,” he insisted. “Don’t worry about my schedule.” He watched her as she went upstairs and he sighed, stepping into his own shower and taking a quick, very cold, rinse off. In the middle of it, there was a knock on his door. 

“Fuck,” he cussed loud enough he was sure Sansa could hear him upstairs. Slapping on a towel he answered the door as he was, dripping and seething. 

Bronn stood there, eyeing him up and down. “I always did have impeccable timing,” he sighed.

“The fuck you doing here?” Sandor snarled, stepping out of the way to allow him inside.

“Margaery called you this morning,” Bronn looked around, eyeballing the place. He saw the bacon on the table and took some. “I just came to tell you the few things she can’t say in front of family.”

Sandor furrowed his brow. “Why did she send you then?”

“Because I’m a good lay and I am not involved with anyone around her,” Bronn laughed. “You can say I’m the middleman. Only I am needed.”

“So she’s sending you to do what she can’t,” Sandor surmised. 

“Exactly,” he sat down and made himself comfortable. “You’ll go through me, not Margaery. Seeing as it’ll be hard for you to get to her.”

Sandor crossed his arms and frowned down at him. “What do you mean by that?”

Bronn looked him over and shook his head. “Please, go get dressed before I start telling you shit!” He motioned to Sandor, half naked and in a damp towel.

“You’re in my home, deal with it,” Sandor sneered back.

Bronn sighed and clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Well, the reason you won’t be able to get to Margaery easily is because she has made plans to go to her family’s cabin further up north. Old ski lodge and the like, very nice, been there once or twice myself,” he stole another piece of bacon and gnawed on it. 

“She plans on taking Sansa with her,” he replied and Sandor’s stiff stance became slack for a moment. “She’s going to ask her today to go with her, claiming that Loras can’t because of some shit reason. Willas can’t because of his leg. So she needs Sansa to come with. Really Margaery is just making sure whatever shithead is trying to hurt her can’t. Get her out of harm’s way so to speak.”

“I see,” Sandor’s arms slid down and he turned his head.

“I’ll be coming back and forth,” he answered. “Staying some at the cabin as added protection and then coming back to see what you’ve come up with.”

“Who knows about these plans?” Sandor asked.

Bronn thought for a moment. “Her family I’m sure. Me. You now.” He shrugged and leaned against the counter. “Anyone else will be told she’s gone to overseas to visit her grandmother.”

Sandor furrowed his brow, “I see.”

“She’s got this whole thing worked out,” Bronn assured him. “It’s kind of brilliant actually. If everything works out and you two get the evidence you both know exists-”

“This is dangerous. She’s playing with fire.”

“She’s always played with fire,” Bronn laughed. “She’s willing to get dirty and burnt for what she believes. She fights harder than any woman I’ve ever seen,” he then pointed to the coffee pot. “Is any of that up for grabs?”

Sandor rolled his eyes. “I...yeah sure take it.”

Bronn got up and made himself a cup with what was left. “Granted, Baelish is a pretty massive fire to be playing with,” he took a deep, long drink of the coffee and sighed. “Fuck that’s good,” eh turned back to Sandor. “You’ve been dancing around that fire a long time, though, haven’t you? It’s starting to get unbearable being so close to it,” he motioned the mug at Sandor. “You know what it’s like to be burned.” 

Sandor glared towards him.

Bronn motioned to his leg. “You’ve been engulfed in a hateful fire, I can see it. You can keep that girl,” he motioned upstairs, “that you like from that same fire.”

Sandor snarled, his fingers touching the burns and melted skin on his face as he frowned. “I wouldn’t do this for someone I just liked.”


	13. New Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wasn’t allowing herself to think that she wouldn’t be able to see him again for so long. She had Margaery had agreed the seclusion would be best, hiding away in her cabin in the mountains with only Bronn knowing the whereabouts. Sandor wasn’t even allowed to be privy to the information since he was the one investigating Margaery’s suspicions. He was allowed Sansa’s new phone number, and that was all. Everything else would be passed through Bronn.

She shoved down the lid of the suitcase and zipped it up. She pushed a loose strand from her face and huffed, setting it with the two others. Sansa turned on her heel, glancing around her room and making sure she had everything she needed immediately. She’d do a final walk through before she left.

 

“You’ll only be gone a month, do you really need that much?” Sandor asked, leaning in the doorway.

 

Sansa shrugged, “I may need more,” she looked at him. “They don’t have a Sephora out there.” She outstretched her arms, beckoning him towards her, pulling him in as he removed himself from the door and into her her arms.

 

“Come with me,” She murmured into his chest, her hands clutching at his back.

 

He put his hand on her shoulder. “You know I have work to do here,” his fingers brushed up her neck and then curled under her chin, making her look up at him. “It’s rather important.”

 

Sansa’s brow furrowed and her bottom lip jutted out far as his arms squeezed tighter around him, bringing him back in tight against her chest. “I know,” she grumbled with a sad nod. “I feel like something is ending before it began-” Sandor cupped his hand around her mouth.

 

“Nothing’s ending, little bird,” he growled as he moved her back. “Just a minor inconvenience.” He shoved her a bit, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of her bed and making her topple backward.

 

She laid her arms above her head, watching as Sandor knelt down and push her sweater dress up passed her thighs. She moaned softly as she felt his lips on her hip.

 

“I doubt I’ll find another lovely little redhead to warm my bed while you’re away,” he teased and her foot landed a blow on his chin.

 

“Don’t even joke that,” Sansa snarled. “I’ll gut you myself if Margaery doesn’t first.”

 

“She’s wounded, I’m not afraid of her,” his hand parted her thighs. “She’s my new boss, though, I should tread lightly.”

 

Sansa bit her lip in anticipation and she struggled to keep his hand in place. “You’ll answer your phone from now on, and you’ll text me too.” She ended her fight as he pulled his hand away and slipped his fingers under the elastic of her panties.

 

“Your demands are too high,” Sandor slipped her panties away. He then chuckled, “I like these thigh highs on you,” he said, rubbing his hand up the soft fabric and then her skin. “These and nothing else.”

 

Sansa scoffed, pushing her foot against his head as she sat up and pushed her sweater back down. “Access revoked,” she huffed, her cheeks red, lips parted as she tried to catch her breath.

 

He pushed her back down, “belongs to me,” he snarled against her neck, making her tremble. His hands shoved up the sweater and exposed her body to him. “You’re overdressed to be packing anyways, I’m simply trying to help.”

 

She bit his shoulder as his hands made their way to her chest, covering her moans with a growl. “Is it wrong I wanted to look cute?” She muttered.

 

Sandor chuckled, his hot breath on her jaw, his lips dragging down her throat. She gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth as his fingers kneaded and rubbed at her mound, easing down and caressing her slick folds.

 

“You’re awful wet for pretending to be cute,” he moaned.

 

Sansa’s fingers dug into his back and gripped at his shirt. “So you admit I’m cute?” Her back arched as his fingers rubbed and teased the most sensitive part of her. “If I’m wet…” she swallowed, “if I’m wet it’s because you keep touching me and looking at me.”

 

Sandor chuckled, easing back down between her thighs again, kissing as he went.

 

“Mm,” Sansa relaxed back, pressing her hands over her face as she felt Sandor slip further down. 

 

She wasn’t allowing herself to think that she wouldn’t be able to see him again for so long. She had Margaery had agreed the seclusion would be best, hiding away in her cabin in the mountains with only Bronn knowing the whereabouts. Sandor wasn’t even allowed to be privy to the information since he was the one investigating Margaery’s suspicions. He was allowed Sansa’s new phone number, and that was all. Everything else would be passed through Bronn.

 

“Sandor,” she moaned out as his fingers slipped inside her, easily finding that sensitive spot inside her that made her begin to lose breath. Since Margaery had outlined her plan he had been like this with Sansa. Every moment she showed a sad face it was kisses and touches until she came undone for him. Although, she had noticed that he hadn’t once allowed her to fuck him. His mouth and hands were all he used.

 

“Sandor,” she mewled again, “I want you!” She finally gasped out. “Please...give me…”

 

He looked up at her, his eyes serious and sharp, even the blind one. He removed his mouth from her folds and his finger slipped out from inside her. “What is it you want?” He growled, his rasp of a voice dangerous. Everything about him in that moment reminded Sansa of a sword barely pulled from its sheath. It was ready to strike.

 

“You’ve done so much for me and-” her voice choked in her throat. She sat up and caught his face between her palms. “Don’t you want to...I mean…” she suddenly lost the nerve. She wasn’t sure how to ask him to fuck her.

 

Sandor rose up slightly, enough to kiss her. He then stood before her and stripped off his shirt. She felt she would never grow used to the sight of his chest. The ripples and fur, the lovely jut of his hipbones. She reached out, licking there, her fingers moving for his zipper.

 

“Little bird,” he growled warningly.

 

She flicked her steely eyes up at him, letting him see her little red tongue as it went down his hip bone. “You’ve not let me touch you once,” she finally got out, she opened his pants and pushed them down with a rather impatient huff.

 

He grabbed her hand before he pulled his underwear down. “Wait,” he caught her chin.

 

Her hand was on his leg, the missing one. Her fingers touching the scars there on his thigh. He kept her chin in place, keeping her from looking at it. 

 

She pressed her palm to his leg, squeezing gently there. She then pushed his hand away and kissed his scars. She had wanted to kiss him there, touch him, to reassure him and build his confidence. He was so strong, he deserved to feel invincible. Her hand pet up his thigh, naughty fingers grasping at his rear and squeezing and kneading.

 

“Hey!” He lurched and made her giggle. 

 

“It’s hard,” she teased, her other hand wrapping around and pinching the other cheek. “Yet perky,” she kissed the growing bulge in his underwear.  
“Sansa,” he snarled.

 

She licked her lips and in a quick, sudden motion pulled down his boxers. Her long fingers grasped around his thick shaft and she looked up at him, catching his dark gaze on her own as she stroked him slowly.

 

Sandor gritted his teeth, feeling as if his knees would give at any moment. Her eyes making him tremble as she captured him. His grasped the back of her head, undoing her bun to see her hair fall free. She so very seldom let it down and it was his favorite vision of her. 

 

Sansa licked her lips and her gaze shifted, going to what she clutched in her hand. Her wet lips parted and she placed his red hood inside.  
Sandor shuddered, accidentally pushing himself in a little deeper. She whimpered softly, her hand on his thigh. She then sighed, slowly taking him more into her mouth, her tongue hot as she lapped at him. Her head bobbed and she moaned as his taste flooded her, his scent making her mind go white.

 

“Anh,” she pants as he pulled away from her.

 

“You’re far too good at that,” he snarled at her, gripping her hair to keep her in place. “I don’t want to cum just yet.”

 

Sansa smiled, feeling a little proud. She didn’t think she had much skill when it came to fellatio, but if Sandor liked it then that was all she needed. She stood up, rubbing herself against his body as she did. “You’ve been so attentive to me, I wanted to repay the favor.”

 

Sandor knelt down, biting her neck and shoulder, grinding himself against her stomach. “That’s for me too,” he growled into her ear.  
Sansa shivered, her toes curling at his voice. “Sandor,” he mewled, pawing at his chest. “Fingers and kisses are all well and good,” she reached down and gripped him again. “This is what I really want.”

 

He pushed her down onto the bed, admiring her from above. Her dark thigh highs a nice contrast to her pale skin. Her pink nipples were slightly puffy, the nipples hard and a darker shade. He stroked his fingers down her neck and chest. He spread her thighs and lifted her knees up.

 

Sansa swallowed in anticipation, her breath hitching when she felt him slicked himself along her wet slit. “Don’t go easy on me,” she managed to choke out. “I want to feel you on me until I see you again.”

 

Sandor bit his lip.

 

“Leave bruises,” Sansa pant, reaching down and grasping him, pushing him inside her. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, the sensation of him stretching her and filling her so well. She was already close, it wouldn’t take much more for him to send her over the edge.

 

Sandor was biting his lip, feeling her heat rise up through him, warming him. As he began to move he felt something on his back, something scalding and burning. He flinched and shivered, gasping as his mouth filled with smoke and his throat itched and tightened. He lifted his head from her eyes to the fire glowing just beyond the window.

 

He woke with a start.

 

He slowly rose up from his pillow and groaned. That had been happening a lot lately. It had stopped for a while, the nightmares, now they were back and invading even the few good dreams that remained to him.

 

The house was as quiet as a crypt, just like before, back when he thought what he wanted was to be left alone. There were no sounds of joy upstairs, no Lady to wake him with a kiss. No Sansa to wake him with a kiss for that matter either. The house was hollow without them, a shell holding in what was there. 

 

He had moved himself to Sansa’s bed while she was gone with Margaery. If he slept in his bed the nightmares came without even a good dream. At least in her bed, he dreamed something nice. He was surrounded by her and that served as comfort enough.

 

He checked his phone, seeing that she had already sent him several texts from her morning. There was a picture of her essay for class, a few others of her study book, her notes, her laptop on with Margaery in the background with captions like: “We got up early to finish some school work!” 

 

“Just because we’re on the lam doesn’t mean we can quit our education!”  
There was a picture of Lady staring intently out the window. “She keeps thinking you’ll come walking up.”

 

“Tell her no man in worth that loyalty.” He responded.

 

A few seconds later her message popped up. “You are!” Don't pull that self-deprecating shit with me good sir.”

 

He smirked. “I’m no sir.”

 

A picture of her enjoying a cup of coffee was sent. “I miss your coffee. Margaery’s is worse than mine.”

 

“So you admit that yours was bad?”

 

“Oh fuck!”

 

He laughed, easing back into bed, the burning from his dream slipping away.

 

“I hate it here,” she replied.

 

“No Sephora?”

 

“I could care less about that right now. We don’t go anywhere so I haven’t touched my makeup since I left.”

 

“Then why do you hate it?”

 

“I miss you so much I feel like my heart is breaking.”

 

His heart leaped nervously, causing his stomach to churn and his skin to feel cold and clammy. He hadn’t ever expected this kind of confession. He swallowed at the painful lump in his throat and he sat back up.

 

“I told you, no man is worth that loyalty.”

 

“And I told you to stop saying such things.” As soon as the text appeared his phone began ringing, her number flashing on the screen.

 

He sighed, knowing he couldn’t ignore it. He answered, “I thought you were busy studying.”

 

“Listen,” her voice was a little shaky but she sounded calm, she chuckled softly then and that eased his tension to a degree. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “But not for myself.”

 

“Don’t worry about me little buh-”

 

“I will worry!” She scolded. “You’re worth the worry, you’re worth the loyalty, you’re worth the stress-induced nightmares,” she sniffled and his heart melted. “Sandor, stop thinking you’re just some cannon fodder. You’re not a meat shield. You’re not a stray dog. You’re my knight, my hero.”

 

“Sansa-”

 

“You stay quiet!” She fussed at him again. “You listen to what I have to say! Because you won’t listen to anyone else!” She paused for a moment and he heard her blow her nose. 

 

“You’re important. You’re strong and beautiful. And even if the world tells you ‘no’ I’m beside you screaming ‘yes’.”

 

“Beautiful?”

 

“Lady and I think so,” she murmured so softly he felt as if she was right beside him, her warm arms around him and her dewy lips to his skin. 

 

“I don’t want you doing something stupid,” she urged. “Do not sacrifice yourself because you think it’s the right thing to do. Because I can assure it is far and away from the right thing to do! You don’t just go into a fight and get yourself hurt and never take care of it. Don’t do something stupid and based on your hatred. Just don’t ok?”

 

“I have a lot of hatred, a lot of rage,” he growled.

 

“Please,” her soft plea was like a sword through the chest. “Please, quiet the rage inside.”

 

He sighed and ran his hand over his face. He hadn’t shaved in a while and only no did he realize the beard he had going on. “No promises but...I can try.”

 

Sansa sniffled again. “Ok,” she hiccuped.

 

“Stop getting so emotional over me. You’ve barely been gone at all, no need to worry about me right now.”

 

“Shush,” she scolded, a giggle escaped between sniffles. “I always worry about you. Lady too.”

 

He leaned his back against the nearly painful, cold wall. He closed his eyes and listened to her soft breathing for a moment. “I’m working to protect you.”

 

“All the more reason to worry,” she murmured gently into the receiver. “You saved me once, Sandor,” she swallowed back a sob. “I don’t want to always be a damsel in distress to you.”

 

Sandor laughed then, his body shaking a little. “Oh, my little bird,” he purred into the receiver. “You’re always in distress.”

 

Sansa scoffed, “shut up. I’m capable.”

 

“Yes,” Sandor sighed and moved to the edge of the bed. “I need to get ready, little bird. I’ll try and talk to you later.”

 

“Promise?”

 

He scoffed, “yes, I promise.”

 

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he flinched for a moment, wondering how she knew. “Send me pictures of you getting ready.”

 

“You know that’s not going to happen,” he huffed. “Later, Sansa.”

 

“Later, Sandor,” she murmured and hung up. She set her phone aside and looked across the room where Margaery was scrambling to appear like she hadn’t been listening.

 

Sansa frowned and came back into the room. “You shouldn’t be moving like that,” she crossed her arms tight against her chest.

 

“You’ve been gone this long and you two still haven’t had phone sex?” Margaery scoffed, tucking a loose curl of hair away under the arm of her glasses. “You’re so vanilla it makes me sad.”

 

Sansa grimaced at her.

 

“So?” Margaery eyed her. “Whats up?”

 

Sansa shook her head. “Nothing,” she sat down and hung her head over her books.

 

Margery crooked her brow and she tilted her head to her shoulder. “Nothing? Really?” She asked as she studied and read Sansa like an open book that happened to be large print. “Nothing, nothing, nothing,” she repeated then she slapped her hand in Sansa’s book, making Sansa lurch backward.

 

“You were going to say it, weren’t you?” Margery pointed a finger in her face.

 

“None of your business!” Sansa snipped back, her hands clutching her sweater’s collar. 

 

“Oh puh-lease,” Margaery snorted. “‘I miss you so much I feel like my heart is breaking’,” she shook her head. “You’re such a trope, it’s wonderful.”

 

“You were listening!”

 

“You want to tell him you love him?” Margaery asked, her voice going soft and sincere. 

 

Sansa’s cheeks went red and she tucked her head into her sweater, her eyes peeking out over her knuckles. She mumbled inaudibly for a second.

 

“What was that?”

 

“You wanna tell Bronn,” Sansa quipped.

 

Margaery clinched her good fist and she avoided looking at Sansa as her whole face went bright pink. “You don’t know anything,” she touched her heated cheek. “And we aren’t talking about me,” she looked back Sansa’s way. “Do you really want to tell him over the phone?”

 

Sansa’s lips parted and then she shut them tight. “I want him to know,” she whispered. “I want him to feel-” she hesitated and chuckled nervously. “I don’t think he’s ever heard anyone say it to him before. So I just want him...while I’m gone…”

 

“I think he knows, Sansa,” Margaery murmured, reaching out and taking Sansa’s hand. “I don’t think he would do this for anyone but you.”

 

Sansa glanced out the window where Lady was laying, sighing heavily. “If something were to happen...and neither one of us could say it,” she wiped at her eyes.

 

“It won’t be for much longer,” Margaery assured. “He has a meeting with Bronn tonight, so we’ll have some information coming in soon.”

 

Sansa exhaled deeply, her shoulder slouching. “Yeah,” she nodded slowly. She scratched at her hairline and then opened up her books and laptop again. “I need to finish this assignment and watch that lecture so I can make notes.”

 

Margaery smiled towards her, concerned and sympathetic. “Good girl,” she then stood up, her arm in a sling. “I’ll go make us some tea.”

 

“Coffee,” Sansa chirped up. “I hate tea.”

 

Margaery’s brow furrowed and she turned back towards Sansa. “Since when?” 

 

Sansa became silent, slipping on her headphones as she turned on the lecture to listen to, her head bowed as she wrote in her notebook.

 

Margaery sighed and went into the kitchen where she turned on the coffee maker, having prepped it that night when she couldn’t sleep. She leaned against the fridge and sighed, shoulders heaving as she listened to the silence beyond the burbling of the coffee maker. She checked her reflection in the mirror beside the cabinets and touched the purple and green circles under her eyes. 

 

Both she and Sansa had been having trouble sleeping since arriving at the cabin. She had negotiated with herself that she would sleep better once Bronn showed up and brought them Sandor’s report. She wasn’t really sure when she would stop being tormented by the sound of a gunshot. Any loud, sudden noises caused her to go into a near panic attack. She hated it, that was never her. She never worried, never gave a care. Now here she was insisting Sansa always wear headphones when they watched television so that she could watch with subtitles. 

 

She tossed a dish rag over the mirror and turned to the coffee pot and poured two full mugs. She knew exactly how Sansa took it now, just a dash of sugar. That was never how she used to take it. Then again, they both weren’t doing things like they normally did these days.

 

She set Sansa’s mug near her then wandered back into the kitchen with her phone in hand. She had gotten a new phone and was slowly getting used to it. Her messages were empty, save for one chat. She opened it and sent a message.

 

“Make sure to bring clothes, it’s going to storm and you may be stuck a day or two.”

 

The reply came back faster than she expected.

 

“How awful, but I’m prepared.”

 

She smiled, heart feeling at ease for the first time that morning. She rubbed her thumb over the message. Sansa’s earlier accusations going through her head.

 

“It’ll be nice having you around. We’re both a little jumpy.”

 

“I’m certain. Too bad I can’t bring the other safety blanket for the other needy kitten.”

 

“Are you calling me a kitten?” She texted back quickly. She then sent another quick response to that. “And just what are you insinuating about yourself?”

 

“Don’t worry about it, kitten.”

 

“I can have Sandor kill you, you know?”

 

“Oh yes, I’m fully aware of who can and can’t kill me.”  
“Just stop assuming things.”

 

“You’ve been batting me around for years, kitten. I know you too well to just assume. I know.”

 

Margaery’s cheeks burned and her chest ached. In time like these, when their banter got to this level of back and forth, he was always in arm’s reach. “Then know this: I OWN YOU.”

 

“I know all too well. Till tomorrow.”

 

Margaery set her phone down and covered the smirk on her lips with the back of her hand. “Fuck you,” she murmured to herself softly. 

 

Bronn tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah, fuck you too kitten,” he murmured under his breath, knowing Margaery well enough to sense her thoughts. He knocked on the door and waited, watching as snow began to fall and settle on the concrete.

 

The door opened and Sandor stepped out. He locked the door behind himself and waved for Bronn to follow him.

 

“What? Not going to let me in? Serve me tea?” He followed close beside Sandor though as they walked to the dark car parked behind the cottage. “This yours?”

 

“I usually keep it in storage,” Sandor replied as he hit the unlock button on his keys then tossed them to Bronn. “Everything is in there.”

 

Bronn fondled the keys inquisitively. “What?” 

 

“Everything she asked for,” he pointed. “Take this car and go. No need for us to trade.”

 

Bronn furrowed his brow but he nodded slowly. “I didn’t expect you to be so efficient.”

 

“Give me your keys,” Sandor waved his hand. “I’ll keep your car, then we can trade again when you get back.”

 

“You think you’ll have more info by then?” Bronn walked to his car with Sandor.

 

“I don’t plan on sitting around,” he growled. “Once you’re gone, I’m going back out again.”

 

“Damn,” Bronn took his bag from the trunk and then gave Sandor the keys.

 

“I have other jobs to do as well,” Sandor stuffed the keys into his pocket. “Appearances to keep and all that shit.” He then pointed back to his car. “There’s emergency gear in there. Supposed to-”

 

“Snowstorm, yeah, Margaery mentioned that too.”

 

Sandor then snapped his a glaring look. “No names. Ever.”

 

Bronn looked quite surprised, “wow, really?”

 

“Yes really,” Sandor snarled back. “You may call it paranoia but I call it being careful.”

 

Bronn held his hands up. “No judgment there. I respect how professional you are. I’m but a lowly janitor.”

 

“Bullshit,” Sandor scoffed.

 

Bronn laughed and shrugged, “yeah, well, for all anyone else knows. I am.” He picked up his bag and tossed it over his shoulder. “Be safe, got it?”

 

“Be smart, got it?” Sandor growled as he turned back to the cottage.

 

“I’ll try,” Bronn tossed his bag into the car and slipped inside. He palmed his phone and sent a message as the car started up. 

 

“The hound is efficient, I’m on my way.”


	14. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa comes to a realization.

Sansa sat up with a cold sweat pouring down her body. Her shirt clung to her and her hair was matted against her face and neck. Her whole body shivered and her hands trembled as she reached to turn the light on. She looked around, unable to register where she was for a moment. Clutching her chest to took several deep gulps of air and calmed herself down.

The panic was still there.

She slid her feet off the bed and walked across the cold floor to the window and looked out. Black and white as far as she could see. It had stopped snowing at least, the storm had passed. She felt ill at ease about it, the darkness stretching farther and farther before her, the snow tall enough it reached the windows. 

She reached for her phone and began going through messages feverishly. Any sort of sign, any clue at all. She had saved so many conversations. Surely there was something he said, some sort of slip that would give it away.

He was too good for that, she thought as she dropped her hand to her side. No, he was far too careful and far too cunning to let anything give him away. She knew though now, somehow, Baelish had been planning this all along. Ever since she was a girl, beaten and bloody in the hospital, he had been planning this,

She sat on the edge of the bed and held her head in her hands. How could so prove it, though? Who would believe her? Her mother considered him a close friend. Her father, while he didn’t trust him, still admired him. Tyrion would listen, maybe, but he would say if there was nothing to back it up, he couldn’t do anything.

All she had was Sandor and Margaery. All along, Sandor had said he never trusted Baelish, even though Baelish provided a roof over his head and steady income. He still couldn’t stand him. Margaery had never been Baelish’s biggest fan, in fact, she rarely ever spoke of him. Sansa knew her well enough to know that meant she either hated him or didn’t trust him. 

Why hadn’t she caught on until now? She had been so convinced of his innocence because of how hard he had fought for her before. But he had simply been wrapping her around his finger from the start. He had never intended to use her for anything more than leverage. For her past, her family’s name, her money.

“God,” Sansa shuddered as she doubled over and began to sob.

Her nightmare had given her an all too sharp awakening as well as an epiphany. It should have been obvious from the start. She checked her phone again, tears splashing onto the screen as she typed out a message.

“You’re going to say I’m being silly, but I need to know you’re ok.” She sent that message first. 

“I’m so scared, I just had a nightmare. I just need something.” She sniffled as wiped her face, peeling the shirt off her skin as she wiped her face. She tugged it off and tossed it aside, letting her shiver as she dried up.

She knew she had to stay here for her own safety, but she wanted to run away. She wanted to go back home to the cottage. God, if all of this was true if Baelish was behind this, would she ever be able to go home again?

She phone pinged as she was pacing and she lunged at it, grabbing it up and seeing the message her sent.

“Go to bed, you’re silly.”

She closed her eyes and sighed in relief, a few more tears springing forth. It was nice to see him reply so quickly, but it did nothing to comfort her nerves. She sat there, fixated on the message before her.

“Don’t be afraid,” another message popped up without provocation. “I’m here. I’m working for you. You’re safe and warm. Promise me?”

He swallowed, her throat tight, but she agreed. “I’m safe and warm. Promise.”

“That’s all I need to know.” He replied to her. “Try and sleep little bird. It will all be over soon.”

Her hands trembled, wanting to ask the same promise from him. She wanted to know he was safe and warm. Tucked away in the home they had made together despite their start. She closed her eyes, though, she knew he wouldn’t promise her the way she promised him.

“I’m praying for you,” she sent to him. 

“Don’t need em. Go on now.”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and hiccuped. She set her phone aside and held her head in her hands again as she tried to calm herself. Anxiety taking over and making her tremble and ache.

She curled into a ball at the center of her bed and imagined herself waking up in the cottage, everything a horrible nightmare. She wanted to smell coffee bacon, to walk into the kitchen and see his bare back as he stood over the stove. She wanted to press a kiss to his naked shoulder and wrap her arms around his waist.

When she felt she could breathe again and stand up, she changed into clean pajamas and walked to the kitchen to get something to drink. The kitchen was chilled and still. She stood before the fridge and drank her glass of water, her eyes fixated on the magnets on the fridge. Handmade relics from long ago baring Margaery and her siblings’ names. Old faded baby pictures and wide grins with missing teeth. She set her cup down and noticed Lady sleeping by the door. Kneeling down beside her she heard something move and she looked up, nearly shrieking when she saw the armchair pointed at the door and someone sitting in it.

“Just me,” Bronn said quickly and turned on a light. 

“Fuck,” Sansa covered her mouth and collapsed by Lady who shifted to lay herself in her lap. 

“Sorry,” Bronn replied, and Sansa saw the gun in his lap. “Just keeping watch.”

Sansa narrowed her gaze, “keeping watch?”

He shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “Just in case, you know?” He answered with a nonchalant shrug. “I think it’s a bit overkill, but they insisted.”

She tilted her head onto her shoulder, “they?” She stretched her legs out onto the cold wood floor as she felt herself relax.

“Margaery and the big one,” he answered, moving the gun to the side table. “Margaery didn’t exactly ask me for it, but I think she sleeps better knowing someone is awake. Then the big one seems to think that every nook and cranny is filled with eyes and ears. He won’t even let me say my own name around him!”

Sansa pressed her lips into a hard line.

“He’s angry,” Bronn sighed, “like a feral dog. Well no,” he pinched his brow. “Not feral no, that’s bad wording,” he leaned back into his chair. “He’s more like...one of those spoiled house dogs you’d think would piss themselves before they’d even consider barking,” he rubbed his chin. “But then, when they sense danger to what they love, they go right for the throat.” 

Sansa looked down at Lady in her lap and rubbed her soft ears.

“Right now, he’s on his haunches with a gnarled ridge going down his back as he begins to show his fangs,” Bronn’s voice was a low purr. He then laughed, “quite fascinating really to watch him. He’s much more organized than I would’ve given him credit for.”

Sansa glanced back up at him and smiled gently like he was complimenting her. “When I first met Sandor, I thought for sure he was some hitman or something,” she chuckled. “He was so big and frightening, he looked like he would snap my neck with a twist of his thumb,” she stroked Lady’s fur. 

“But Lady loved him,” she murmured. “She couldn’t seem to get enough of him. So, I knew when she wagged her tail around him and smiled that he wasn’t this scary monster I imagined in my head. There was something warm inside him, something beyond the scars and the mask he wore.”

Lady lifted her head as Sansa talked, her tail slowly starting to go back and forth.

“Real monsters wear a more pleasing mask,” Bronn replied. “Sandor is nothing but an honest man. Even so honest as to not hide what he is. He wears his scars more like a shield. Stay away, go back from whence you came,” he chuckled. 

Sansa nodded, licking the corner of her mouth. “Have you known him long?”

“Known him?” He shook his head, his mouth tugging down at the corners. “No. Known of him? Long time,” he nodded. “We’ve passed by each other a lot in the office. Like you said, he was a frightening creature the first time I laid eyes on him. Had no clue why Baelish would be dealing with him. But, by and by, after I heard all the rumors and whispers, I realized he was a hard worker. A competent one. I respected him for what dirt he could find for Baelish. But,” his expression shifted ever so slightly as he continued. “It wasn’t until I learned about his work for Tyrion that I started to understand who Sandor was.”

Sansa furrowed her brow, “his work for Tyrion?” She asked, shaking her head. “But Sandor doesn’t work for Tyrion.”

“Oh,” he made a guilty expression, “well, I don’t know if I should-”

“What does he do for Tyrion?” She snapped.

Bronn flinched and chuckled nervously, “well, he probably didn’t want you knowing because of the nature of it. Considering your first assumption and all-”

Sansa narrowed her steely gaze on him and he nodded.

“Yeah well,” he swallowed. “Tyrion dealt with a lot of helpless cases. He takes on extra charity work. People who don’t have a voice or money but a real claim, understand? Sort of the opposite of his old man,” he shrugged. “He takes on a lot of rape cases too, a lot of young women whose voices are squashed out before they even use em,” he licked his lips.

“A lot of these women don’t even get to see court,” his voice went low and deep. “Men in power who pay off everyone and get everything quieted and swept under the rug,” he watched Sansa’s expression. Her eyes wide and bewildered, she didn’t even know Tyrion did these things.

“Well,” Bronn cleared his throat. “Tyrion knows all about getting stepped on or pushed aside because of who you are born,” he kept inspecting Sansa’s reactions. “That’s why he does all this. It really pisses him off too. So, when he found out what Sandor did for Baelish, he offered him another job.”

“And?” Sansa’s voice choked slightly.

“He has big, frightening, menacing Sandor beat up these actual monsters,” Bronn tried to suppress his smile. “Beat them bloody and unrecognizable, and then he promises to do it again and again and again,” he laughed, “unless they pay.”

Sansa’s jaw dropped.

“And they always pay,” Bronn said with a nod. “Maybe not at first but there has never been a third beating mind you,” he shrugged. “He gets the money, gets his small cut and then the rest goes to the real victim,” his voice went soft again. “And sometimes, Sandor doesn’t even take his cut.”

Sansa nodded, biting her cheek. “It makes sense,” she murmured and then she let out a big laugh. “Of course he does!”

Bronn smiled gently. “He probably thought you’d be scared for him or something, that’s probably why he never said anything.”

“I didn’t even know Tyrion did that,” she pushed her hair from her face.

“It’s guilt really,” Bronn shrugged,” why he does it I mean.” He stretched out his legs and leaned back again. “He knows his family has done some fantastically shitty things and he kind of takes the burden onto himself.”

Sansa furrowed her brow and her lips parted slightly.

“What’s that look?”

“Does Baelish know about this?” She asked. “Tyrion’s charity cases?”

Bronn’s expression went pensive for a moment. “I assume he knows what Tyrion does,” he replied with a shrug. “Being partners and all at the firm,” he looked back at Sansa. “What do you mean?”

“Baelish never just does anything,” Sansa answered. “He never does anything without having some motive behind his movements. If he knows about Tyrion’s charity cases, there has to be a reason he has kept letting Tyrion use Sandor. He must know. He must be…” her expression fell slightly.

“What’ve you got cooking, girl?” Bronn asked.

“I just having this sinking feeling that Baelish has more planned than we think,” she stood up, Lady sitting at her guard post again as Sansa took a hair-tie from around her wrist and tied her hair back.

“I’ve been wondering,” she murmured as she began to pace. “What if he’s been using me? Ever since he won my case against Joffrey,” she held her hands before her, moving her fingers as if pointing out bullets and arguments on a screen. “But why? What leverage do I hold?” She scratched her cheek and behind her ear. “He brought me in for an intern way to easily. Margaery told me when I started working there that Tyrion is usually extremely selective about who he brings into his firm. I looked back and yeah...I shouldn’t have been qualified for the position,” she clenched her fists. “So it had to have been Baelish, putting me where he wanted me most.”

“So what? Why would you being at the firm do anything?”

“Tyrion’s nephew,” she huffed, “Baelish’s biggest win was against him. That’s why he fled the country,” she twisted her fingers together. “I thought he and his mother were back in the country. I had been seeing their vehicle everywhere, almost following me.”

She turned, “a car nearly ran me over one day, and I could have sworn it was Joffrey,” her eyes darted about as she slowly connected dots. “But what if he never came back at all. Tyrion didn’t know. He said he had no contact with his family aside from his brother,” she licked her bottom lip and tucked it between her teeth, stomping back and forth as everything built before her. 

“But it could be argued that Tyrion knew all along, that he was withholding the information for his own gain. He has no proof to it, and of course, evidence could be made against him easily. Especially if it was Baelsih doing it,” she let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Baelish could never make a reputable firm for himself,” she murmured. “Everyone who is anyone knows that.”

“So?” Bronn asked.

“He’d have to take one,” she murmured and fidgeted. “He’d have to prove there was someone out there more crooked than he is,” she glanced back at Bronn. “Using my history with Tyrion’s family, and now Sandor’s business with Tyrion,” Sansa’s eyes went wide. “He wants to get rid of Tyrion for good,” she then cupped her hand around her mouth. “He’s not just after me,” she whimpered and she turned back to Bronn. “He’s after Sandor too.”

Bronn’s eyes widened and he stood up.

“Everything!” Sansa gasped as she went to Bronn and grabbed his shirt. “Every attack that Baelish has made,” her fists clenched tight and sure, her breath shuddering. “The car that nearly ran over me was exactly like the car Sandor’s! When my home was broken into! When Margaery was shot! Even letting me move into the cottage…” she dropped her hands as the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. 

 

“He was trying to frame Sandor from the beginning,” she reached up and gripped the sides of her head. 

“Because framing Sandor meant also framing Tyrion,” Bronn gasped in astonishment.

“I have to tell him!” Sansa ripped away from Bronn and ran for her phone. Bronn grabbed her before she ran into her room.

“Don’t!” He snapped.

“And why not?” Sansa shouted at him. “Baelish has been attacking Sandor all this time! I’ve just been bait! Sandor needs to know!”

“Sandor has probably already come to this conclusion as well,” Bronn kept a tight grasp on Sansa’s wrist. “Not only that but Baelish has no way of hurting anyone right now with you out of the picture. “If you call Sandor panicked like this he’s going to make a mistake!”

Sansa wrenched her arm free and smashed her face against Bronn’s chest as she began to cry. “Then what am I supposed to do?” She sobbed, her shoulders shuddering.

Bronn sighed and put his hands on Sansa’s back, mouthing ‘there, there’ as he patted her.

“What is Baelish tries to use Sandor to lure me out?” She whimpered. “What if he gets hurt? What am I supposed to do?”

“Sansa,” Margaery stepped into the hallway, she looked white as a ghost. Her eyes were wide and panicked. “What’s going on?”

Bronn passed Sansa off to Margaery. “She’s pretty much got this puzzle figured out,” he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I’ll go put some coffee on,” he side-stepped around Margaery and Sansa as they held each other.

Margaery set her chin on top of Sansa’s head as she sobbed, petting her hair and rocking her gently. Once Sansa was calmed down, Bronn brought them coffee and she told Margaery everything that she had concluded. Margaery listened intently, her eyes focused on the distance as Sansa spoke. She nodded and furrowed her brow, standing up when Sansa was almost finished.

“I told Tyrion it was a bad idea to tell Baelish,” she grumbled.

“You know?” Sansa asked.

Margaery put her hand on her bandaged shoulder. “I knew about the charity cases,” she said with a nod. “And I had a…” she scrunched up her face and tilted her head to the side, “inkling about the blackmailing bit.” She then chuckled, “I would never have fucking guess the big guy was in on it. Fuck, I barely knew he worked for Baelish.” She shook her head, chewing on the side of her lip as she took a breath. “If he kept track of everyone that Tyrion sycked Sandor on, and if they all have some pull in the world...god,” she gasped, “Tyrion doesn’t stand a chance,” she whispered.

“What do we do?” Sansa asked. “How can we stop this?”

Margaery shook her head slowly, “fuck, I don’t know,” she bounced on her heels. “It all seems so out of control right now. Telling Tyrion is just...well it’s throwing sticks at a wall,” she scoffed.

Sansa held her face in her hands. “It feels so hopeless.”

“On one hand, you’re out of the way,” Bronn suggested, “Baelish doesn’t have his main component, so his master plan shouldn’t work. But on the other hand,” he grimaced.

“What?” Sansa asked.

“Baelish doesn’t have just one plan,” Margaery spit. “Knowing him, he has contingencies for every possible outcome.” She sat picked up her mug and took a hard swallow. “I wonder if he counted on you two falling for each other.”

Sansa sank then, her body sagged and her mouth hung open. “He did,” she murmured. “Oh my god…” 

“You can’t say that for certain,” Margaery snapped, trying to be reassuring. “Even Baelish isn’t that evil,” her expression said she didn’t even believe that herself.

Sansa suddenly stood up and went back to her room. She came back out, her fist clenched around her phone.

“Sansa?” Margaery whispered.

Sansa walked into the kitchen and set her phone on the counter. She rummaged through drawers for a moment then brandished a meat cleaver. 

“Sansa,” Margaery started towards the kitchen and then Sansa brought the spiked hammer down on her phone with a loud bang.

Margaery screamed at the loud noise and fell to her knees.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Bronn shouted as he knelt down beside Margaery. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He managed to shout over a few more choice whacks.

Sansa stared down at the remains of her a phone and sighed longly. “That was my phone,” she murmured. “I’ve had it as long as I’ve lived in the cottage and,” her shoulders slouched. “I can’t trust it,” she took a tupperware container and swept the crunched remains into it.

“You want to keep it fresh?” Bronn scoffed as Margaery began to collect herself.

“I’m sorry I had to do that,” Sansa murmured apologetically. “I know the loud noises are a big triggering,” she looked into the tupperware bowl. “Anyone know what a bug would look like?”

Margaery held up a trembling hand and managed to extend her middle finger at Sansa. “You think he bugged your phone?” She scoffed as she stood.

“Is it really ridiculous to think that after all this?” Sansa asked.

Margaery took a deep breath and patted Bronn’s arm. “Look at it, see if there’s anything strange.”

Bronn shrugged, “have you ever left your phone alone with him?” He asked as he took the bowl from Sansa.

Sansa shrugged, shaking her head. “I’m sure there have been times I left it in the office going to lunch or something.” She murmured. “He always made us leave our phones out of the conference room when we had a meeting. So maybe even then-” she shuddered.

Bronn shifted the contents of the bowl. “You could’ve...you know, told us this before you smashed the thing.”

“I didn’t know you knew what a bug was!” Sansa threw her arms up. “I thought you were just a janitor.”

“Hey,” Bronn looked offended. 

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell anyone your phone was going to be down?” Margaery asked, cocking her eyebrow up.

“That’d be counterintuitive wouldn’t it?” She asked. She shook her head. “I had reset it completely before I got here,” she clenched her fists. “I thought I was being as careful as I could be.”

“I’ll let Sandor know,” Margaery clutched her hurt arm again.

“Found something,” Broon spoke up.

Sansa’s eyes widened and she held her breath as both she and Margaery moved in closer. Bronn held something small in his palm. It looked chipped from the bashing. It looked like a thin, flat coin.

“Tracker,” Bronn murmured.

“Oh my god,” Sansa cupped her hand over her mouth.

“Bag that up,” Margaery scowled. “This is evidence we need,” she pulled back slightly. “At least it’s a start.”

“What about Sandor?” Sansa gasped.

“I’m staying here,” Bronn replied, “knowing that thing exists, I’m not letting you two alone here even for an hour.”

Margaery nodded as she stroked her arm. “He’s alone out there,” she whispered.

Sansa’s jaw dropped and her voice choked off. She cupped her hand back around her mouth and tried to calm herself down.

“No need to get panicked now,” Margaery said, trying to calm herself as well. “Nothing has happened so far. But that’s not to say something won’t,” she licked her lips. “We’ve just gotta keep our heads about this,” she squeezed tightly on her arm.

Sansa turned and looked out the window. Beyond them and the snow, the sun was rising. The sky was painted pink and orange. She watched as the sun came up over the mountains, cresting their snowy peaks as the sky went from pink to blue. She clutched her arms around herself and squeezed, trying to mimic Sandor’s arms around her.

“Anyone hungry?” Bronn asked to break the silence. “How about I make breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Margaery kept her voice from trembling. “That sounds nice, doesn’t it, Sansa?” She asked, turning towards her.

Sansa nodded slowly, “yeah, thank you.” She moved sluggishly to the kitchen with Margaery and Bronn. She suddenly felt so tired, her mind having run laps all night until now, she was exhausted. She slumped at the table with Margaery, drinking more coffee to keep from nodding off.

Sleeping now seemed like such a strange thing to do. Danger lurking in every nook and cranny she could lay her eyes on. Yet she felt like she could sleep until it was safe to go home.

A lot of good came from it, but she began to regret smashing her phone. She so wanted to talk to him, to see the pictures she saved and remember him. Now she had no connection to him she could cling to.

She remembered that first day in the cottage and how excited she was. How when Lady ran downstairs she feared the worst from her new neighbor. Even worst was when he opened the door as she snuck into his home. It was dark and dusty, and it smelled like a thrift store somehow, but when he opened the door there was a rush of fresh air tinted with coming rain.

Their first meeting had been unceremonious, a small accident because Lady had been excited about her new surroundings and new smells. Sandor had been gruff but understanding, and all the while Sansa had just assumed he was tolerating her.

“What’re you thinking about?” Margaery asked.

Sansa’s eyes widened as she remembered where she was. “Ah-” she then chuckled and shook her head. “I was just lost for a moment,” she muttered.

“I’m sure he’s thinking about you too,” Margaery replied, her head resting on her arm. 

Sansa shook her head and placed her cheek into her palm. “I'm not thinking about that,” she sighed. “I'm just… I'm worried about him,” she replied as her throats became tight and stony. “I know he's smart and probably knew all this from the beginning but I just…” she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “What if he doesn't?” She looked up at Margaery with big, wide eyes. “What if he still doesn't know what's going on and is trying to figure it all out?” She squeezed her hands together and twisted her fingers about. “But calling is dangerous isn't it?”

Margaery was silent for a moment, and she touched her shoulder. “I don't know what to do either. Call, don't call, call…” she let out a long sigh. “There was a tracker,” she murmured, “I'm just glad Bronn didn't leave last night after all.”

Sansa nodded, both of them sitting in doubt as Bronn brought over plates with nothing but scrambled eggs.

“Oh fuck,” Margaery growled as she snapped to her senses. “Who fucking let you cook?”

“I offered to be nice!” Brown scoffed. 

“Do we look like we want to choke down scrambled eggs and only scrambled eggs?” Margaery waved her plate under his nose. “We have been through emotional trauma and you want to shove your awful eggs in our face?”

“I thought you liked my eggs,” Bronn took the plates away.

Margaery’s eyes widened and her nostrils flared. “It's called faking it!” 

Bronn and Sansa’s jaws both dropped. 

Suddenly a smile broke across her face and she cupped her hand around her mouth and began to laugh. Bronn started laughing with her and soon Sansa was giggling herself. They were all laughing until it hurt, not noticing the cell phone in Margaery’s phone ringing in the back.

He hung up his phone and tried again, this time typing out Sansa’s number. He held his breath as the phone rang and rang again. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and kept his breath held back.

“Hi! You've reached Sansa Stark. Sorry, I can't reach the phone at the moment. Please leave a message and I will get back to you. Bye.” She sounded strange, he had never heard her talk like that before.

There was a click and a beep and he swallowed hard. “Sansa...I don't have to tell you who this is so...I really wish you would answer your damn phone. Well, I guess it figures you don't right now,” he looked down at his blood covered hand then closed his eyes again.

“I just wanted to hear your voice again...maybe say a few things left unsaid. I don't know why I'm calling anyways. I know you wouldn't want me to under these circumstances,” he winced and nearly dropped his phone, he grabbed it back up and tucked it between his shoulder. 

“You're going to be ok. You can come back and live your life and annoy someone else. But you will be safe. I promise.” His back began slipping down the wall. 

“Promise me you'll be happy. That's all that matters,” he turned off his phone and let it drop. It clattered, the glass shattering on the screen. 

He pant, his breath coming out in thick white clouds as he adjusted himself back upright. He put his hand on the wall, smearing blood as he went. Blood splashed on the wet and icy asphalt as he trudged down the dark and endless alleyway. 

A door opened before him and she leaned against the wall, chuckling darkly as Baelish came out and walked towards him. 

“Didn't expect you to actually show up,” he spit.

Baelish shook his head, a sympathetic look upon his face. “Sandor, Sandor,” he sighed. “You've got this all wrong.”

“Save your bullshit for the courtroom, Baelish!” Sandor snarled, showing his fangs. “Save your fucking lies for someone who wants to hear them.”

Baelish sighed, shoulders heaven before he clapped his hands together. “I had hoped to help you, I am honest there,” he nodded. “I didn't want to lose you. You were so good at what you did. I'll never be able to replace you-”

“You're fucking blowing hot air!” Sandor shouted.

Baelish’s eyes narrowed, a cold state coming through as his expression went blank and empty. “It should have been so simple,” he growled and he stepped closer. “But you had to keep snarling on your chain.” He flicked his eyes up and Sandor felt an arm go around his neck, and something cold against his temple.

“I’d kill you now if I didn't need you,” Baelish plucked a bit of lint off his sleeve and tossed it away. “But, as it were, turns out your ‘little bird’ did not fly the coop,” he then chuckled wickedly, “so to speak. No, turns out she isn't too far away.”

Sandor’s eyes widened and he began to struggle against the man holding him back, the gun clicked and pressed harder to his skull. 

“I need you to bring her back,” Baelish purred threateningly. “So, alive you must remain.”

Sandor unhinged his jaw to roar and spew venom but the butt of the gun was brought down against the back of his head and he fell to the cold ground in a heap. 

Baelish scoffed, “pick him up,” she waved his hand dismissively. “Tie him up, make sure he can't move at all. He moves one inch and you're the one who suffers,” he snarled as he walked back inside.


	15. All I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor wakes up to find himself in a rather chilling situation.

Sandor woke up, his head throbbing in pain, his cheek cold against the cement floor. He slowed his breathing for a moment and let his eyesight adjust. The room was dim and clammy, the sound of pipes above his head clattered and sang. As he peeled open his eye he saw a drain before him, rows of silver shelves. His breath came out in thick white puffs.

Two and two put together equaled that they put him in a freezer. He glanced around without making it obvious he was conscious. Who knows who was watching from the door. His leg was gone, hands were tied behind his back. He felt like a landed fish. He felt like when he was a boy and back at the farmhouse he grew up in when his brother was the dictator of the home and allowed Sandor to have his crutches only when he felt like it. At least his brother never threw him in a freezer. 

He shifted himself slightly when he heard the freezer kick on and rattle with new noise. He looked up, seeing the door was solid, no window. He grunted and managed to prop himself up. He sat against the wall, his back and arms against the wall as he tried to think.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but for him, the previous night had seen him not only kidnapped and thrown into a freezer, but he had been stabbed before hand. His side ached, his shirt now crusted with brittle brown stains. He had taken Bronn’s car to meet with an old informant, someone who used to deal with Baelish and his people. He never liked the docks as it were, especially during winter. It was far too cold, but he supposed it was a place to talk without getting heard. Too bad he found the informant had been shot and replaced. He had gotten away with a stab wound, his assailant got a bloody nose and probably hypothermia from falling into the ocean.

Sandor pulled his thighs to his chest, able to slip his arms easily over his leg and stump. He then grasped his side, another wound another scar, he thought to himself as he peeled his shirt away from the wound. Looking at it fibers were still stuck inside. A few drops of fresh blood began to trickle out after his shirt ripped away. He huffed and held his breath, letting it out after a moment in a thick white cloud. It had been a long time since he was stabbed, he forgot how bad it hurt.

Before this, when they first brought him inside, unconscious and bleeding, they had tried to tie him up. That proved to not work out so well, as before they had finished he had woken up and nearly strangled one before another came in and knocked him out again. Which brought him...here.

“Well,” he thought, “I guess he needs to keep me alive, or else he would’ve killed me long ago.” He remembered he had said something akin to that before he had lost consciousness. Baelish was still trying to get his nasty hands on Sansa, he figured. He bit his tongue, keeping his rage in check. He couldn’t make any noise just yet.

Ages ago, he had seen a scared young girl chained up in the bathroom. So small and frail and terrified, but she had never shed a tear until she saw the daylight. She had been freed from her cage only to walk back into another. He would never forgive Baelish for that. He had tricked Sansa into thinking she was free and that she had nothing to fear ever again.

The door clicked and he lifted his head, looking up as it opened. Tyrion was thrown into the freezer with him, a bag over his head, but it was unmistakably him. The door slammed shut again and Sandor scooted over to the figure and nudged him.

“Hey,” he grunted. “You conscious or not?”

“Clegane?” Tyrion groaned from under the hood.

Sandor sighed and eased back, “thought they tossed a dead body in here with me.”

“Oh yes, because that’s what’s awful here,” Tyrion scoffed as he rolled onto his back. “Being locked up with a corpse. How fucking dreadful.” He sighed heavily. He was only in pajama bottoms and a robe that was damp and stained with coffee, he was obviously snatched from his home. 

“Why is it so fucking cold?” He grunted as he pushed himself up.

Sandor stretched out and pulled the bag from over his head. “You’re a bag of peas.”

“Fuck,” Tyrion growled. There was blood smeared down his face under his nose. His eye was swollen and the side of his head was cut.

“The hell did they do to you?” Sandor asked.

“Unnecessary roughness,” Tyrion grunted dismissively. “Now why the hell are you here?” He then looked as if he were struck with an epiphany. “Ah-ha, so that’s how it is.” He glanced around and sighed. “I knew I should’ve been more careful.”

Sandor leaned back again. “Isn’t all your fault.”

“Oh thank you for the comfort, Clegane. I can see why Sansa takes such delight in your company,” he rolled his eyes.

The expression that crossed Sandor’s face then made Tyrion’s eyes wide and huffed, shaking his head. “Ok, so what the fuck are we doing here?”

Sandor looked away. “I know why I’m here,” he growled. “I don’t know why he would bring you here.”

“Maybe he expects you to kill me,” Tyrion laughed, his nerves making his voice break slightly as he said it. 

“Or at least make it look like I did,” Sandor added.

Tyrion swallowed hard, almost retching before he laughed again. “There’s that amazing comfort of yours again.” He leaned back against the opposite wall of the freezer, shuddering. “You think he’s intending to frame you?”

“He’s been trying to frame me for a long time now,” Sandor quipped, turning back towards Tyrion. “That’s why he allowed Sansa to move into the upstairs apartment,” he huffed through his nose and looked up at him. “That’s what I’ve come to understand from his machinations, every attack and attempt made against her were all aimed in my direction. My guess as to why you’re here now is to still frame me, but take his little plot in another direction,” he growled.

“Kill me, frame you...and Sansa?” Tyrion’s brow furrowed.

“Or at least use that to lure Sansa out,” Sandor huffed. “He knows she’s too sweet for her own damn good. He’ll dangle a life for a life. Maybe even promise to spare me.”

“Why does he need both of us, though? Why not just you?”

“Can’t frame a monster if you don’t have a monster,” Sandor’s upper lip curled. “He’s worked too hard to make sure I’m to blame. He’s planning to get rid of you one way or another. Death, slander, it doesn’t matter how he accomplishes his goals.” He then laughed.

Tyrion’s eyes narrowed on him. “Your sense of humor is as well trained as your ability to soothe.”

“No it’s just...something I overheard a long time ago,” he murmured. “Sansa had her bratty little sister over and they were talking. The kid says something about how...Baelish was obsessed with their mom, how it was so obvious every time he visited, especially during Sansa’s whole ordeal a while back,” he bit back a smile. “And I Just thought...well, if Sansa is dragged back in, he has an excuse.”

“You think Baelish is doing this for a woman and not just to piss on my family’s name?”

“It can all be both,” Sandor shrugged. “People do a lot of dumb shit when their heart is involved.”

Tyion glanced away. “Still doesn’t make any fucking sense,” he then slammed his back into the wall. “And I am fucking freezing in here!” He bellowed for whoever could be listening. He huffed and slouched back. “It may not have been honest work,” he admitted, “but the work I did with you was well...actually something I thought I could be proud of.”

Sandor looked away again.

“And now, it’s going to be used against me isn’t it?” He scoffed and hung his head. “That’s what I get for thinking the enemy of my enemy is my ally,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Yeah, that whole thing is a crock of shit,” Sandor replied, not even really listening. He had his head turned, trying to hear beyond the door.

Tyrion frowned as he watched him. He adjusted himself, his arms beginning to cramp behind his back. “What are you-”

Sandor hushed him sharply. He pressed his back against the wall and inched himself up, bracing himself and standing on one leg. Tyrion’s brow furrowed and he inched further from the door. Outside shouts were muffled and faint, but they were growing louder and closer. Then there was a gunshot.

“Fuck,” Tyrion hissed.

The door clicked, then opened. It swung wide open and Bronn walked in. “Ah, there you are,” he replied.

“Bronn?” Sandor wobbled at the sight of him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” His eyes widened and his jaw went tight. “What about the girls?” He snarled.

“I have a lot of time to explain that later,” he came in and helped Tyrion up. He then went over to Sandor to offer his shoulder. “For now, I just need to get you out of here.”

“How did you find us so fast?” Tyrion asked.

“Well, I was heading this way, and then I saw them bringing you in. So I just had to wait for them to settle after they brought you inside,” Bronn answered as Sandor leaned against him for support.

“How many?” Sandor asked.

“Two at the entrance, two in this room,” Bronn answered. “Wasn’t too hard,” he laughed.

“There was a gunshot,” Sandor snarled.

Bronn pointed to one on the ground, his hand bloody, a shattered cell phone on the ground behind him. “I couldn’t have him calling backup, now could I?”

Sandor eyed his handy work. The two men in the room, including the one with the bloody hand, were unconscious, not much was disturbed. When they passed the two men near the entrance he was surprised at how they were laid out like asleep.

“I thought you were just a fucking janitor,” Sandor growled.

“Hey,” Bronn scoffed. “I’ll have you know, being a janitor is just a hobby,” he smarted as he helped Tyrion into the car parked outside. 

“And your profession?” Sandor snarled.

“If I told ya, I’d have to kill ya,” Bronn smirked.

 

Two Days Ago:

“That’s five,” Sansa replied, itching under her sloppy bun as she recorded things down on a yellow legal pad.

Margaery was sitting at the computer, her fingers tracing around the screen as she read. “Well he has his laundering taken care of neatly,” she scoffed.

Bronn came into the room, rubbing his eyes. “What the hell are you two doing?”

“Batshit crazy stuff,” Margaery waved him over. “You know, women things. Just shut up and wake up.” She grabbed his neck as he leaned down behind her and she held him. 

“We’re charting down businesses or properties owned by Baelish,” Sansa explained, holding up her legal pad, fluffed up from use. The cardboard backing rippled and curved from constantly being clenched in her fist.

“Just because he didn’t make his update call doesn’t mean he’s missing,” Bronn said with a shake of his head. “I don’t think he’d get captured so easily.”

“Probably not,” Margaery shrugged. “But isn’t it better for us to cover all our bases just in case?”

Bronn sighed and shrugged, leaning back in as Margaery began showing him on the map the places Baelish owned or at least had his stamp on.

“He owns most of downtown,” Sansa murmured. “If he’s planning anything to catch Sandor, it’d probably be down there.”

“The warehouse,” Bronn tapped the screen, “maybe. But I would actually stake my money on the old steak house, forgive the pun.” He tapped a circle on the map and Margaery narrowed her eyes.

“What makes you think that?” Sansa asked.

“Has easy access,” Margaery started over Bronn. “Back alley is covered, no one could see anything from there, considering those buildings are mainly storage or business,” she said with a shake of her head as Bronn tried to continue himself. “You could easily get into the back with no one seeing you. And since it’s a restaurant it wouldn’t seem suspicious for the activity like that.” She smirked her lip curling up at the corner. “Not to mention it has an underground basement. You could hold interrogations down there all day long and no one would hear a damn thing.”

Sansa leaned closer, all three of them focused on the circle on the map. “So…” she whispered. “Do you think that’s where he would take Sandor?”

“To cover his tracks, probably,” Bronn nodded. “But I am telling you, you’re worrying over-”

“I feel it,” Sansa interrupted. “I can’t explain it, and I don’t quite believe it myself, but I just somehow know that something is wrong! I can feel dread and cold deep in my bones and I can’t shake it.” She swallowed, her throat painfully tight. “He hasn’t contacted Margaery. He hasn’t sent you an updated number from a burner phone. Something isn’t right! It’s been three days since we last heard from him. That’s two days longer than comfortable for him.” She wrapped her arms around herself, the legal pad hitting her back. “Baelish tracked my phone, he knows where we are. Snow or not...we have to get out of here!”

“And go where?” Bronn scoffed.

“The cottage,” Margaery replied. “Last place Baelish would expect any of us to go.”

“He probably has that place under constant surveillance!” Bronn snapped. “I assure you, he has been watching Clegane like a fucking hawk. He knows when that man shits, I will guarantee you that for sure!”

Margaery frowned, “even if he has Sandor locked up?”

“If he’s waiting for Sansa to show up,” he waved at her. “There’s probably a goon sitting in the park in eyeshot of the house making hourly updates.”

“Then where do you suggest we go?” Margaery asked. “With that logic, he has eyes on all our homes, even Tyrion’s,” she scoffed. 

“Yeah, good to see you thinking that,” Bronn huffed, Margaery’s arm still firm around his neck. “I suggest we try and get somewhere close to the steakhouse in case we have blood,” the words made Sansa tense up. “And yet, we want to get far enough away he won’t track us.” 

Sansa gasped and lifted her head, “Willas,” she turned to them. “He can let us have access to his studio,” she said. “He doesn’t have any classes or group sessions right now, so we could hide there. Baelish wouldn’t think to have anyone set there.”

Bronn arched his brows, “that’s...actually not a bad idea.”

“I don’t want to involve Willas in this,” Margaery’s voice was unsure. “What if something happens and-”

“You’d do the same for him,” Sansa replied and Margaery glanced down at her phone and she sighed, “fuck.”

Sansa inched in closer to her, her eyes pleading. “Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You know it’s what Willas would want you to do.”

Margaery turned back to her, her eyes narrowing.

“If he knew, you know he would be doing this already. That he would be doing what he thought was right-” she licked her lips. “I know you don’t want to get anyone else involved or, god forbid, hurt,” she took a shuddering breath. “But Willas could be our only hope. He can be what saves us.”

Margaery cast her eyes back to her phone. 

“All we need is the keys,” Bronn joined in. “He leaves the keys for us somewhere safe. Then he takes himself and your parents somewhere far away. We retrieve the keys and go there. He doesn’t even need to see us.”

Margaery swallowed. “We share a P.O box,” she murmured. “He can leave it there and then that’s it.” She reached for her phone with a shivering hand and clutched it.

Sansa reached out and took it, “this was my idea,” she replied. “I’ll ask him.”

“Sansa,” Margaery tried to speak up but she already had the phone on her ear.

Margaery sighed and leaned back in the chair, slouching deeply. 

“This is our best option,” Bronn put his arm around her and nestled his cheek to her hair. “The best way to end this.”

“I know,” her voice choked. “I know,” she exhaled loudly.

 

Present:

He felt something cold against his forehead and heard a gentle murmuring above him. Someone was singing softly as a cold press was held to his forehead.

He groaned and his eyes began to adjust. Dim light filtered through curtains came in, dusty and warm. He sighed and tried to adjust himself. His side felt...numb, strange. His back felt stiff and the rest of him felt strangely at peace.

“Don’t move too much,” her voice was the first relief he had felt in weeks. “You have stitches.” He looked up and saw her face, blurry, hovered above him. Her hair tied up in a bun and away from her face.

He reached up and held her cheek, “fuck, you’re real.”

“Don’t joke,” she cupped his hand against her skin regardless and kissed inside his palm. “You should try and rest more. You don’t need to get up and move around.”

“Where am I?” He groaned. “I must have fainted in the car,” he tried to lift his head and his neck popped.

“Willas lent us his therapy studio,” she murmured quietly as she rubbed the cold press to his neck and chest. “He’s the one who stitched you up.”

“Willas?” He groaned.

“He’s a nurse,” Sansa then hushed him. “Try and rest some more, don’t worry about anything, ok?” Her voice had a small tremor to it.

“I can’t rest,” he sighed, letting his body sink back into the sleeping bag. “Not with you here.”

“I told you not to joke,” Sansa scolded.

“I’m being serious,” he growled at her and reached up again, catching her cheek again. “Silly girl…” he swallowed as his throat grew tight. His vision slowly coming back, her could see the tears in her big blue eyes. “This dog isn’t worth it.”

Sansa knelt down and kissed him, her hand on the side of his neck so warm, her lips chapped from chewing on them. A few tears splashed onto his beaten face and she pulled back.”He is when you love him,” she sniffed definitely. “So shut up with that kind of talk. I won’t have it.”

He stared with his brow knitted at her, his jaw slightly slack until he swallowed. “What was that again, little bird?” He growled as he began to raise up on his elbows. “You hid it in all your chirping.”

Sansa pressed her hands to his shoulders, “lay down! Stay down,” she pushed him back.

“Tell me what you said,” he grabbed her hand, threatening to pull her down.

Sansa gritted her teeth, “I love you! You fucking idiot! Now stay still!” She blinked more tears away, unable to wipe them away. “I love you-” she hiccuped, “get it?”

Sandor pulled her down and kissed her again, harder this time, nearly losing his breath. When he pulled back she pressed her lips into a quivering line and she sniffled. “Oh don’t cry about it,” Sandor grunted. He cupped her cheek, his thumb wiped the tears aside. 

She held his hand to her face. “Shut up.”

“Sansa,” he forced away the lump in his throat, “you’re the only-” he swallowed again as the lump returned and he cleared his throat. “You...same.”

Sansa looked down at him and furrowed her brow. “Sandor you’re-” he moved his thumb over her lips.

“I love you...girl,” he growled. “I should have said it before,” he admitted. “But I’m too chicken shit.”

Sansa pushed his hand away and kissed his jaw, his neck. Soft, warm pecks that made him forget he had been beaten bloody. She lifted back up, her hand gently touching his side just above his stitches. “I’ll take care of you now,” she whispered to him. Her fingers gently brushed along his side and back up his chest. Her palm planting itself over his heart protectively. 

Sandor lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, bringing her in close, her cheek on his shoulder. He remained silent, closing his eyes and planting his nose in her hair, taking a deep whiff. 

Sansa pet along his chest, her fingers drawing circles in his chest hair as she listened to his heart beat rumble under his ribs. She slowly lifted her head and wondered if he was asleep. As she pulled away he held her down fast.

“Oh,” she gasped, losing her balance and nearly tumbling on top of him. She quickly braced her knee and hand on the sleeping bag. The pens in her hair shook loose and her hair spilled down over him. She adjusted herself, placing her other leg between his thighs.

“Sandor,” she swallowed. “You need to let go.”

“Just let me hold you,” he growled. “It’s just a stab wound, I’m not a fucking child.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” She scoffed as she glared down at him.

He grinned at her and she felt her insides turn into putty. “Ta-take this seriously, Sandor,” she scolded as she tried to collect herself. “You were stabbed and beaten for days, I’m shocked you can even smirk like that right now.”

“I have my little bird,” his hands gripped her thighs and kneaded her ass. “I feel like I could kill an arena full of men.”

Sansa turned red from the tips of her ears and down her neck to her chest. She broke from his grasp and laid down next to him, on his side that wasn’t injured. She put her thigh over his stump leg, the touch there making his guts wrench with nerves before he relaxed to enjoy it. She laid her head on his arm and he lifted his hand to pet her hair.

“I could do it, you know?” He attempted a joke.

Sansa frowned against his arm, her eyes closed but brow pinched. “Sandor,” she grumbled.

“Just a flesh wound,” he remarked, wanting to hear her laugh. “Bet I could make you cum...oh,” he sighed and huffed as he faked thinking, “probably three times before I started to hurt.”

Sansa buried her face away against his chest. 

“Wouldn’t have to end there, got two hands as well. They may be a little bruised but that never stopped me from making you scream before,” his hand pet down her arm. “Is it wrong that all I want to do is make you happy.”

“You should think a little more seriously,” she grumbled under her breath. “Instead of with your dick.”

Sandor lifted her chin back up and met her gaze. “You haven’t smiled once, little bird,” he shook his head. “You’ve cried and kissed, but I haven’t seen that smile I love. That’s what worries me,” he scolded her like she had made a mess.

Sansa laid her head back onto his arm, “it’s just been-”

“Hey,” he snarled, catching her attention. “As far as I’m fucking concerned, it’s just you and me in this world right now. Outside this dusty little room, there isn’t a soul around,” he gave her a gentle shake. “It’s been nearly a month since I’ve seen you. I’m so happy I could scream, and here you lay crying.”

Sansa sniffled then suddenly laughed, realizing his words. “Sorry,” she giggled and looked up at him, a smile on her lips. “I’m happy too, but I can’t help but...when they pulled you from the car and you were unconscious and bleeding and just…” she cupped her hand over her mouth.

“I’m alive, I’m fine,” he grumbled gently. “Fucking ride me to see for yourself.”

She laughed again and she slapped his chest. “Stop it,” she giggled against his chest.

Sandor wrapped her up in his arms. “Make me,” he growled against her ear.

She met his lips, kissing him as he tightened his arms around her. Her own petting up his back and into his hair. She pulled back, though, catching her breath and pulling herself free from him. She tucked her hair back as she stood up. “You’re probably hungry.”

He sighed, defeated as he sank back against the sleeping bag. “I guess.”

“Don’t pout,” she then smiled at him and pulled up a pizza box and a big green thermos. “Can you sit up?” She inched closer as he attempted to raise up and she placed pillows behind his back. He then reclined on them and the wall as she sat beside him, the pizza box on her lap. 

“It’s a little cold,” she murmured, “but it’s still good.” She then reached over and opened the thermos, filling the lid full of black coffee for him. She took a quick drink for herself then handed it to him. “You should really have water but...this should do.”

“This is all I want,” he looked at her as he took the coffee, gulping it down before touching the pizza.


End file.
